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inscribed-in-asteroids · 4 years

Text

AN: Here’s chapter two!

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Hordak, Entrapta, Odessa, features original characters

Pairing: Entrapdak, features other canon couples (and some fanon)

Rating: M

Read on AO3. It’s always posted there first.

Evaluation

“You want us to help you… find your dad’s… home planet?” Hydrangea questions.

“Not necessarily that,” Odessa replies. “I’ve been mulling over this the last couple of years. Wandering through space, it’s apparent that my father’s species has predominantly settled into Etherian life. But when I ask my father where we are from, he has no answer.”

“Not in the withholding information way,” Tristan clarifies.

“Exactly. In the sense he has no answer to give. Period. I’ve discussed it with my mother, and she believes it could be an exciting chance to find out where he’s from!” Odessa claps her hands together. “We know about the biology, physiology, mental health, behavior of one person. My father has been studied thoroughly for years, but his makeup can only tell us so much.”

They nod in understanding. It does make sense. He has been genetically manufactured over and over, thousands of versions of him co-existing among species that still have yet to see anything like him before. Hordak has lived among Etherians, has explored world upon world, but they know he is an anomaly. They all do.

Odessa looks down at her hands, an anomaly herself. Her parents have always been supportive of her intellectual pursuits, and this could very well be one of the greatest. She has filled a medical textbook composed of both Entrapta’s research, Hordak’s explanations, and her own observations, theories and notes about how his species operates. But what good is it if it simply applies to a single individual; that’s not applicable to how science or medical practice works.

Hydrangea pours them tea. She knows how determined Odessa can be once she sets her mind to something. There’s no stopping her once her brain gains traction on an idea. Tristan’s set face comprehends this as well.

Tristan speaks first, “When would you like us to begin?”

Odessa smirks, “Soon as you’re done with your drink.”

“Hm, of course you’d say that.”

“Damn right,” Odessa answers.

Hydrangea places her hands on her hips, “Alright, Des. We’ll get going soon as we’re done!”

“Or you could chug your chamomile in one go.”

“No.”

Dryl is etched further into rocky cliffs, its labyrinth excavated deep inside the mountain. Its residents welcome their princess, happy to see her return. Entrapta’s kingdom had been left to its own devices for years, even prior to Entrapta’s departure; yet they view Odessa as the rightful heir, and treat her as such. She supposes it's something to be grateful for, as it does leave them with a place to rest and organize without much interference.

Though she could do without the large paintings of herself lining the walls.

“I never get over how cute you were as a baby,” Hydrangea says, giggling. “Look how chubby you were!”

“You were so adorable,” Tristan gushes. “So innocent.”

“The sweetest little baby,” she continues. “I still want to pinch your itty bitty face!”

“Shut up,” Odessa pouts, blushing. Curse these portraits… and curse their laughter...

“Odessa! Hello, hello!”

Relieved, she turns, smiling at the friendly face, “Hi, Uncle Wrong-Man.”

Crushing her to his chest, he presses their cheeks together, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen my most favorite niece in the world!”

“You’re going to make all the other nieces jealous,” she says. Then smiles, “But it’s true.”

“I can’t help it, you were the first niece I had!”

Back on her feet, Odessa glances at the vicinity. Normally, there’s more of her uncles wandering through the halls. “Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they’re working outside or in the kitchens. We heard you were back and we felt a welcoming party would be fun!”

“You don’t have to throw one every time we come back.”

His eyes turn watery, a sad, morose frown on his features, “Oh… I see… You don’t… like my parties anymore…”

“No, no, that’s not it!” Odessa says, trying to cheer him back up. “I just meant you don’t need to go through all the trouble each visit.”

He looks up at her, ears drooping lower, “Do you like them?”

“Yes, Uncle Wrong-Man, I love your parties,” she insists. “You’re the best at it!”

In seconds, his bubbly personality returns, “Excellent! I look forward to giving you another party suited to your tastes!”

Tristan leans toward Odessa, hand held up to his mouth, “Wow, for a minute I thought I heard violins.”

“He has that dramatic flair to him,” she agrees.

“How have your parents been? I haven’t seen them yet!” W.H. asks.

“Mom and Dad are fine,” Odessa tells him, following him through the halls. The maze has been modified to be easier to map out. The first time she had come here, they had gotten lost since Entrapta couldn’t quite recall where all the secret entrances were. Odessa took it upon herself to make her own layout, and added to it whenever a change had been made. “They went to Beast Island to see how it is there.”

His ears fall for a moment, “Aw, I hope they’ll visit soon!”

“I’m sure they will,” she assures him. “They had some business to conduct over there.”

“In the meantime, what brings you to Dryl?”

“I wanted to talk to you and some of the others regarding your past,” she explains.

W.H. enters the closest kitchen, walking toward the oven. Tucking on mitts, a perplexed expression crosses his features, “Our past? My dearest niece… have you been afflicted by amnesia?”

“No, my memories serve me right,” Odessa says, patient. “I am asking for information regarding where we had come from, as a whole species. What world we originated from, what our culture was like. I had spoken with father about the matter, but he said he didn’t know due to being younger than the rest of you.”

W.H. crosses over to the countertop, removing the cookies onto a cooling rack. He is silent for a few moments, and it is clear he is choosing his words carefully, trying to understand what she’s asking. He turns, a serious mien about him, unusual on his face. “I… I’m not sure, either.”

Odessa walks over to him, “Is it because you were separated from the hivemind?”

“I don’t believe so,” he replies. Folding his arms over his chest, the fact they’re all one person reveals itself in his posture and tone. “We had been created to serve Horde Prime. Nothing more or less. And I do think that I myself had been cloned after your father. He had been Horde Prime’s general as well, and if he didn’t know, one of our elder brothers might have the knowledge you seek.”

Odessa glances at Hydrangea and Tristan, then back to her uncle. “Do you know who would?”

W.H. ponders for a minute. “Hm, no one here, I am certain. The residents of Dryl are like myself—of the younger group, since we have more people skills to associate with the Etherians.”

Hydrangea says, “I always wondered how that worked. Where you were designated and why.”

W.H. nods, “Oh, yes, we put thought into what our new purposes would be. After I helped my brother and sister with Beast Island, I came here to demonstrate how to function with Etherians!”

Tristan walks over to the counter, “Where do you recommend we go, then? Also, can I have one?”

W.H. beams, nodding enthusiastically, “Please do! I am going to make much more. But in regards to your first question, I would suggest visiting family in Mystacore or Beast Island.”

Odessa takes a cookie off the rack as well, munching. Mystacore is closer, so it would be prudent to try there before traveling to Beast Island. There are portals stationed throughout Etheria, but it’ll be worth stopping by Mystacore. She hasn’t seen anyone there at all yet. Although, it’s not as if there are many who live in the clouds, visiting her family there is always exciting.

“Thank you, Uncle Wrong-Man,” Odessa says, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We’ll head there now!”

“Take some food with you to go,” he insists. In a flash, he’s bagging the cookies into a cellophane sack, tying it with a pink ribbon that shapes into a butterfly. “Healthy meals are important, but so are treats! Otherwise, you get moody.”

Hydrangea and Tristan are handed their own bags, much to their surprised delight. Before Odessa can accompany them out the door, W.H. stops her, giving her another, “Would you mind taking this with you for your cousin?”

Odessa smiles, “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Hordak and his brothers were categorized not by their clothes, or hair dye choices, but by their eyes. Odessa and her mother had noted the various shades of eye color, their teeth matching them the most; however, inside of their mouths, it adjusts to mimic the change as well, affecting the tongue and beneath it, gums, hard and soft palates, uvula, even extending down to the oropharynx. All her uncles are in good health, and with none of them dead, she can only assume that the change continues down the esophagus. She got it in writing several years ago that, should any be willing to be dissected for scientific purposes, she has a few choices for her study.

Their eye colors are fascinating: while they all reflect light to glow, which is meant to intimidate opponents, she has observed the change serves as behavioral distinction. The lighter the color, the more mellow and passive the personality; the darker or more intense, the more independent and aggressive. A chameleon-like feature, reflecting mood. And, in turn, signifying mental and physical health, as peppier individuals tend to be less plagued by feelings of inadequacy, anger, and low self-esteem. W.H. had his eye color eventually become the joyful chartreuse yellow she’s known since birth, and her father’s returned to their fiery red sometime after the war. This is the one true variation that doesn’t need attire or fanciful hair styles and dyes to show that no matter how alike they are by DNA, they are their own separate people.

So when she teleports to Mystacore, and she finds dark blue eyes staring at her from above, she remembers, quite immediately, that sometimes, darker eye colors don’t indicate low self-esteem but rather, an egregious amount of confidence.

Her uncle jumps down from his perch, landing daintily on his feet. He narrows his eyes, leering, “Odessa… it has been ages since you’ve arrived on Mystacore.”

“Hi, Talon,” Odessa says.

He looks at her friends, “You two are faring well, I hope.”

Hydrangea smiles, “Yes, thank you for asking!”

Tristan nods, “You look good, too, Talon.”

“Indeed,” Talon answers. “It would be a shame if I lost my abilities.”

With that, he throws knives out from his sleeve. Tristan dodges the attack by barreling to the side, somersaulting along the ground. Hydrangea calls up plants from underground, knives embedding into the sides. Odessa leaps into the air, reaching behind her to draw out a handheld bar. With a click, it extends to a staff, and another morphs it quickly into a pilum.

Reeling back her arm, she launches it with full ferocity at Talon. He avoids it, jumping to the left and pulling out more knives, but he aims them at Tristan, who runs toward the nearest fountain to pull water out from its containment. Tristan moves his arms upward, pushing out enough water to create a vertical depth, the knives slowing down as they pierce its surface and float inside.

Odessa tugs her spear out from the dirt, cornering her uncle at the right. Hydrangea pulls plants forward, fingers splayed in the air. From her fingertips, electricity strings across her exoskeleton. Tristan rushes to their side, water sloshing around them, encasing Talon in its center, creating a barrier.

Talon sneers, then bursts out laughing. His stance loosens, standing upright, “Your senses haven’t weakened. Good. I’d be vexed if you squandered my generosity to teach you combat.”

Odessa smirks, minimizing her staff and settling it behind her back, “We wouldn’t do that.”

Hydrangea grins, “Tristan and I do practice on our own.”

Tristan shifts the water back toward its source, then rubs the back of his neck, “Which is great, since there was no holding back from that attack.”

“Enemies don’t show mercy,” Talon says. Adjusting his collar, he nods his head, “But tell me, what brings my niece and her companions to Mystacore?”

Odessa speaks, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Me?” he replies, curious.

“Yes. It’s about your origins. Uncle Wrong-Man said it might be beneficial to come to Mystacore and question my relatives here.”

Talon raises a brow. He looks up at his home, then addresses the trio, “Are you intending to stay for longer than an hour?”

“Most likely.”

“I will invite you to my home, then. Come. Dinner will be prepared soon, and we may discuss the topic during.”

Accepting this, they head in the direction of his home. An impressive, ornate building that’s three stories high; they tread up wide steps, where one can overlook the weigela bushes lined around the vicinity’s front entrance, a fountain spouting water in the garden’s center, surrounded by lilacs and roses. Cool air wafts over their bodies, welcome from the heat outside. Odessa remarks that the decor has only slightly changed, the furniture taking on silver, blue, and white qualities, polished until they gleam.

Going to the stairs, Talon nods at them, “Make yourselves at home. As usual, do not break anything. I will see you at dinner promptly.”

Once he’s gone, Hydrangea chuckles, “He’s still intense.”

“He’s gonna kill us one day,” Tristan sighs.

Odessa pats his shoulder, “Only if we let him.”

He lips thin out, “Not reassuring, Des.”

Climbing the steps, they decide to wait until they are called, and opt to entertain themselves by bothering someone else.

Magic radiates within the room, energy felt even behind the door. Odessa carefully pushes it open, seeing a slim figure move around. Putting a finger to her lips, she leads her friends into her cousin’s quarters. His face is stern, staring at the spell hovering over the ground at shoulder height.

Hydrangea sits quietly on a cushion on the floor, and Tristan does the same. Odessa leans against the wall, and they all watch. Eon is her cousin, and their similarities begin and end with their fathers having chosen Etherian women as their partners. He differs from her, and any other potential cousin, by having the capability to do magic. Real, Etherian magic.

Eon takes measured breathing, focusing on the spell. It elongates toward the ceiling and floor, then narrows to a thin line. Reaching for it, he plucks it with his forefinger. It snaps, and a discordant sound follows, uncomfortable and shrill. Hydrangea and Tristan cover their ears, as Odessa winces.

Eon looks at them, brow raised. He grins, “Did you all enjoy the show?”

“We did, until that,” Hydrangea complains, glaring at him. She frowns, lightly slapping her ears, “Aw no, there’s some ringing!”

“It’ll pass in a few moments,” Eon explains. “Besides, you three coming into my room unannounced and unwelcome deserves a bit of retribution.”

“By popping our eardrums?” Tristan asks, deadpan.

“Exactly,” Eon says, one hand on his hip. He turns to Odessa, and smiles. “You’re here sooner than expected.”

“I believe we arrived on time,” she answers, grinning back. She hasn’t seen him for a while, but he has gotten taller since then. He takes after their species' propensity for large heights, but she knows he’s grown a few inches and might continue to grow for the next couple of years as well.

Eon begins putting away his spellbook and notes, arranging them neatly, “What are the three of you doing here? With you on Etheria, you normally visit me later on your returns.”

“I came to ask your father some questions, but then he invited us to dinner.”

“He can be standoffish, but oddly enough, never when it comes to hosting meals.”

Hydrangea sits up, “We got into a sparring session with him right away too.”

Eon joins them on the floor, one knee bent to prop up an arm, “I had mine early this morning. You know him, he’s never done with training.”

Crossing outstretched legs, Tristan reclines against the wall, “Your parents don’t let up, huh?”

“No, but I head to my place at Bright Moon later in the month. I check in biweekly to continue my sparring and magic training, then head back and repeat.”

“That’s a lot of back and forth,” Hydrangea adds, holding a pillow to her chest.

Shrugging, Eon says, “I don’t mind. Keeps me busy.”

Odessa chuckles lightly, taking a seat beside Tristan, “For being super busy, Uncle Wrong-Man said to give you this.” Pulling out the bag, she tosses it to him.

Eon catches it deftly, a quiet ‘yes’ of triumph leaving his lips. His diet is strict when he’s with his parents, for optimal nutrition and betterment. But he has a sweet tooth that rivals Odessa and Entrapta, thus any opportunity to consume sugar is taken. Using a levitation spell, he has it placed atop his desk, and an invisibility spell follows after, keeping it from view.

“Won’t your parents find it? It’s not like you can’t smell cookies,” Odessa states.

“I’ll say it was one of you.”

Hydrangea laughs, “I don’t think they’ll be entirely fooled by that.”

“If not, that’s fine by me too,” Eon says. “I let them think they’re savvier than myself.”

Tristan smirks, “How often has that worked?”

“More than for you,” Eon says, smirking back.

Odessa and Hydrangea whoop at Tristan, who laughs in good humor.

Stretching his arms up and to the side, Eon turns to his cousin, “How did the last journey go?”

“It went as planned. We went to Pilan, and my parents found what they needed for research.”

“And you two?” he asks, addressing the others.

Hydrangea lays on her stomach, drawing circles on the pillow, “Hm… my moms have started taking me to council meetings, which is interesting. We had a gathering with some of the leaders in Plumeria that are helping to manage its growing space. And New Chelicerata has been thriving for years now, since we removed all the machinery in the Fright Zone and expanded it into the Flower Field.”

“Not all the toxins have been removed, I’m assuming.”

“Some of the groundwater had been too polluted, and it leaked into larger bodies of water, but, as a whole, we started seeing real progress six years ago.”

“I’ve been helping the residents there by removing water too far gone,” Tristan adds. “We’ve been separating them into larger containers as instructed, and we’re hoping that newer technology from Entrapta and Hordak will yield positive results in another decade or so.”

“Even if it’s slow, progression is always good.”

Odessa glances to her left, letting her mind drift. Time doesn’t pass by the same when traveling through space. She watches her mother age, while her father stays the same, and that’s the extent of how often she pays attention to the changes happening around her. It’s not from ignorance, but from not giving too much thought to it, even with the years she has spent returning to Etheria to evaluate and aid her people here.

Settling against Tristan, Odessa yawns. He keeps his body still as she falls asleep, finding their chatter relaxing. Dinner will arrive sooner if she’s napping. Even closing her eyes is enough for her body to rest, breathing quietly as she listens to them discuss any topic they happen upon.

Her friends are interrupted mid-conversation, a knock at the door grabbing their attention. Odessa opens an eye. The housekeeper bows her head, addressing Eon, “Your parents are waiting for you in the dining room. Please, follow me.”

Odessa knows her uncle, Talon, is a force to be reckoned with in combat, but her aunt, Nyxia, is a woman with severe features and a severer personality. If there was ever given a choice between fighting him or her, they may have to weigh their options a little more carefully.

She is seated next to Eon, with Hydrangea and Tristan placed across from them. Odessa leans toward her cousin, “Did Nyxia poison the food this time?”

Eon shakes his head, “Maybe Tristan’s.”

Tristan bawks, “Hey!”

Waving his hand, Eon smiles, “I’m teasing. It’s more than likely Hydrangea.”

“What?!” she demands, worried.

“You two are making this easy,” Eon grins, shaking his head. “Really, after all this time, you continue to doubt my parents’ hospitality.”

“I haven’t seen your mom in a while, okay? I wouldn’t know if I offended her last time,” Hydrangea breathes out, leaning back in her chair.

Ear twitching, Odessa catches the sound of footfalls, her aunt coming into view from the corridor, chin-length, violet hair framing lithe, dark features, gown flowing behind her. Definitely not a person to be out of line around.

But that only applies to non-relatives.

Nyxia smiles warmly at her niece, “Odessa! My charming girl, how have you been?”

“Wonderful, Aunt Nyxia, thank you,” Odessa replies, nodding her head in respect.

“Excellent. I heard all of you did well in your impromptu session with my husband earlier,” she says, making her way to the other end of the table. Standing beside her chair, she looks at her son’s other friends, “Talon remarked that you’ve improved considerably.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hydrangea and Tristan reply at once.

Talon comes from the opposite corridor, walking toward Nyxia. Pulling out the chair for her and sliding it beneath, he moves to the other end and takes his place at the head. The staff bring out their meal: roasted pheasants and potatoes, slathered in its drippings, with baked seasoned vegetables on the side. Wine is served to all of them, as Nyxia and Talon are lax in this department of child-rearing, though the option to have different beverages is always available. Odessa requests her usual fizzy drink, as Hydrangea asks for lemon water. Tristan and Eon have no qualms with the choice displayed in front of them.

“Smells delicious, Miss Nyxia,” Hydrangea compliments.

“Thank you, my dear,” she answers, laying a cloth on her lap. “When I heard you three were in Mystacore, I chose to make this instead.”

Odessa and Eon twiddle each other’s fingers under the table, a silent ‘fuck yeah’ to the change in menu. Nyxia is a phenomenal chef, but she abhors cooking. The usual staff do lovely work, except they are meant to keep things simple, clean, and balanced. Nyxia, despite agreeing with her husband on meal preparation, manages to create rich, satisfying food each time. Normally, when Odessa and her family are visiting.

Relishing this opportunity, Eon cuts into his pheasant, stabbing a portion of potato with it, melting on his tongue. Trying not to pretend-weep. Or actually weep.

“What was your question, Odessa?” Talon asks, swirling the wine in its glass. “It’s not like you to come without your parents.”

Dabbing her mouth, Odessa looks at him, “I wanted to ask you questions about your time serving as a soldier for Prime.”

He doesn’t break the smooth motion of his wrist, not minding that part of his life, “Yes?”

“I was told that older clones might have information regarding our origins. A life before Prime sought out to conquer the universe. My father and W.H. are too young to remember, or were never privy to it. You’re one of the eldest, so I figured to come here before heading to Beast Island.”

Talon sets down his glass, lifting his fork and knife. He takes a bite of his food, chewing quietly. Swallowing, he says, “I will be blunt: it is not possible to know such a thing. Our purpose, our life, was to do Prime’s bidding.”

“There isn’t anything you can think of?”

Talon mulls the question, glancing up at his wife, then back to the plate. He narrows his eyes, and they flicker to an even darker shade of blue for a fraction of a moment. He gives a minute shake of his head, imperceptible to all but his wife.

Odessa waits for him to speak, slipping out her recorder with a strand of hair.

“I… cannot remember a time before Horde Prime. There was only war. Ravaged lands, and screaming,” he leans forward. He meets his niece’s gaze, “You might have to go to Beast Island for your answers, though I do not trust they will know more. Many of us have been alive for decades, but not millennia.”

“Is there a reason for that?” Tristan wonders. “The hivemind was the source of connection. Did you lose memories once it left?”

“No, it doesn’t seem to be that way,” Talon answers, sipping his drink. “It’s more… you have recollections, starting from the present. And it continues backwards until it stops. A wall in your head, which is the moment of when we, for lack of a better word, are ‘born.’ From what I’ve gathered, raising Eon, and observing all of you growing up, an infant that develops naturally can have memories that are faint—both in sensation and imagery, and the mind’s eye develops scenarios of what could’ve happened. Piecing puzzles in your memory banks. Attempting to make sense of your childhood and surroundings, and it even causes you to feel certain emotions into adulthood on a subconscious level. For us, and my brothers, there is no guesswork. There is the instant of emerging from the vitrine, and from there it goes on. Our memories are crystal clear, and gaps do not occur. If we feel emotion, it’s from direct experiences, not preconceived ideas of maybe how we experienced living. The hivemind being removed made us how we are now, but its absence didn’t seem to affect anything else.”

“Fascinating,” Odessa says, forgetting her meal. “So, you remember everything?”

“Yes. It would seem my brothers and I recall memories at greater capacities than most.”

“Would you say you have photographic memory?” Hydrangea asks, leaning forward.

“Our superior intellect allows us to retain knowledge quicker, and we remember things for longer, but a true photographic memory isn’t an aspect we have considered.”

Nyxia cuts into her pheasant, “It’s not unlikely. Your brothers and you have shown an uncanny ability to remember things more greatly than Etherians. It might be prudent to research it further, wouldn’t you say?”

Nodding in agreement, Odessa would not rule it out. She’ll discuss it with her mother for an unbiased opinion later.

Dinner finishes with chiffon cake and fruit, leaving guests and hosts satisfied. Talon and Nyxia wave at the door, as Eon walks them to the portal.

“It was good to see you all,” Hydrangea says, turning to Eon. She clasps his hands, “You should visit more!”

Eon blushes slightly, still not used to open demeanors, “I’ll try to make an effort.”

Tristan pats his shoulder, “You have to get out more. Between you and Odessa, I don’t know who’s more of the hermit.”

“It’s definitely me,” Eon replies. “Odessa’s too needy.”

Punching him in the arm, Odessa gives a side-hug right after. She and her friends step onto the portal, “I’ll drop by again soon! And visit my parents sometime, dumbass.”

He flips her off, smirking.

Hopping through the portal, they arrive in Plumeria, where she bids goodbye to her friends. Then, she heads to Beast Island.

“Odessa! My little cupcake, how was your trip to Mystacore?” Entrapta asks. Imp, crawling around on the walls, chirps his greetings with Emily beeping at her return.

“It was very interesting,” Odessa says, pulling out her recorder. “Would you like to listen with me?”

“You bet!” Entrapta shouts, sidling over to sit on her hair. Odessa takes a proffered seat before playing back the conversation at dinner. She listens with rapt attention, the two of them quiet. Afterward, Entrapta grins, “That was fascinating! I had noticed that your relatives tend to be more affluent with recollection than most, but this requires more study.”

“Do you think there is a possibility that they have photographic memory?”

“We won’t know unless we test the hypothesis,” Entrapta turns to her daughter, grinning wide. “You know what that means!”

Odessa grins wide too, saying it with her.

“Time to experiment!”

Odessa and Entrapta had to decide what and how to measure. The test is simple on paper, but part of the reason memory tests can be difficult is due to fallibility of nature. Recalling a memory does not equate accuracy. They also had to take into account that Etherian children were more susceptible to false memories, which could affect them as adults, hence, why Talon said that there’s no guesswork for his brothers and himself. And when it came to the ethics, Entrapta reminded Odessa that it’s part of experimentation, much to the latter’s chagrin. Odessa would’ve followed, regardless, but she’s more determined to see things through without obstacles.

A lack of true full-blooded children for Hordak’s species, and Eon and Odessa were not little anymore, that wasn’t necessary to entertain. However, Odessa and Entrapta believed it would be prudent to test the memory of Eon and any other hybrid cousins simultaneously to the Etherian and Horde groups, sans Odessa.

After deliberating, they chose to experiment by gathering Etherians between the ages of 15-50, to cover the age bases of both Etherian teens and adults, hybrid offspring, and Horde descendants. After age 14, correct absolute judgments and relative judgments have better succession rates and are not as affected by false positives. With this in mind, Odessa sends out a mass message asking if anyone would like to be part of a study.

She receives her answers quickly from her uncles, who would be more than delighted to aid her in any quest. She splits them into four groups, Group A, B, C and D. To accommodate for the choice in subjects, they will be separated into three sections, Etherians being the first, hybrids the second, and her uncles will be the third subsect. Over the course of the week, she receives the rest of her subjects at Beast Island.

Tristan and Hydrangea are the first to arrive, looking forward to spending time with her and her family in the meantime. Hydrangea gives Emily and Imp hugs and kisses, cooing over them incessantly. Imp clings to Hydrangea’s neck, completely at ease.

Tristan pats Emily’s surface, smiling at her beeps, “It’s good to see you too.”

She beeps even louder and harder, spinning around in place.

Entrapta grins, “Aw, you made her day!”

“No one else is my favorite robot, are they, Ems?” Tristan asks. She spins again, and the whirring becomes softer, almost shy.

Odessa nudges his ribs, “Great, my sister has a crush on you.”

Tristan rolls his eyes, smiling.

Odessa peers at his face, “Hey, you shaved!”

“Yeah, you were right. It was horrible,” Tristan remarks.

“You look better this way,” Odessa affirms, pinching his cheek, and he lightly whacks her fingers away.

Scorpia comes a moment later, and immediately bolts over to them all. Once the hugs are done, Scorpia and Entrapta discuss things on their own. Entrapta settles into the crook of Hordak’s arm, resting easily over her shoulders. Scorpia gushes over how cute they are. Hordak humphs in disdain, despite the blush on his cheeks.

Another five minutes pass and the portal hums. Catra, Adora, and two of their children come through.

Odessa sighs. Not looking forward to having some of them here. But she smiles, walking to Adora, “Hi! Thanks for coming.”

Adora smiles, giving Odessa a warm hug. She pulls back, holding her at arm’s length, “It’s no problem. We’re glad to help! You’ve gotten taller.”

“You’ve definitely sprouted more than we thought. I remember when you were knee-high,” Catra says. “You were the worst ankle-biter in Etheria.”

Odessa teases, “Still am.”

Laughing, Catra pats her back, walking hand in hand with Adora to their friends.

Her smile falters after that, though she manages to keep it in place. If Catra and Adora weren’t there, she wouldn’t hide her contempt or indifference.

They have four children in total. Quadruplets in fact. All a year younger than her at 15. Two of them, Clawdeen and Marlena, tend to spend their time in Bright Moon, and she has no opinion of them other than they’re not her sort of people. Well, that’s not true. They’re surprisingly elitist and refuse to associate with anyone they find unworthy of their time. They mind their business enough, however, so Odessa doesn’t pay them attention.

Barely coming to five feet tall, Molly is one of the children here today, a skittish, timid thing; the runt of her litter. She inherited Catra’s heterochromia, one eye blue, the other green, and that’s the one interesting thing about her. She stands, unsure, by the portal. Her appearance here is odd, since she tends to be alone. Odessa doesn’t hate her, or even dislike her, but the girl’s meekness doesn’t make her striking enough to have an opinion on either.

Adam, their one son, is another story. His eyes are bright blue, and slightly jarring in the feline face. The opposite of Molly, he is loud, prone to temper tantrums, and his temerity leaves much to be desired. She prefers the company of confident, open people, but he’s, without a doubt, the most obnoxious fucker she’s ever had the misfortune of knowing.

His eyes, the only one to resemble Adora’s, land on hers, and he leaps over, grinning. Placing an arm on her shoulder, leaning, he says, “Yooooo, what’s up, girl?”

Odessa turns to him, narrowing her eyes, “Please don’t take my smile for welcome, you complete ass.”

“Ooh, baby, you need to chill,” Adam says, poking her nose.

“Try that one more time and I’ll bite it off.”

He winks, “That a promise, thottie from space?”

Odessa smiles wider, eyes flashing, “It’s a threat, you parasitic fool.”

Sensing her growing irritation, her friends bound over. Hydrangea waves at Adam, “Hey! We haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been?”

Adam turns to her, “Hey, Dragon Fruit! You know how I be—taking care of all this,” Adam gestures to his thin body, puffing out his chest. “What you been up to lately? Those flower braids are doing everything for your look.”

Hydrangea urges him to walk far, far, far, far away from Odessa’s area.

Rubbing her temples, Odessa takes a breath.

Tristan rubs her back, “Remember, Des: think of the experiment.”

Odessa nods at him. Science. Her one true refuge. “I know. It’s a little… irritating that he’s here. But I’m sure that empty-headed dolt will yield some results for me.”

Tristan smiles at her, ensuring she doesn’t lose her cool. Once he’s sure she won’t murder, he looks at Molly, “Hi! I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Molly brushes hair away, looking briefly at the ground before addressing him. “Yeah… Um, my moms thought it would be cool to take one or two of us. To help Odessa out.”

Odessa shakes her head, “So glad about that.”

“Um… I’m sorry about Adam...” Molly starts.

“It’s fine,” Odessa replies, focusing back on her clipboard, walking away.

Sighing, Molly bites her lower lip, feeling uneasy.

Noticing that, Tristan smiles at Molly, “Come on. We can wait over here.”

“Sorry you’re stuck with me,” she mumbles.

“I’m not stuck with you,” Tristan answers. He leads her to an unoccupied stone ledge, the occasional pooka darting across it. “Though, I didn’t think this was your sort of thing.”

“It isn’t. I don’t really want to be here,” Molly answers, pulling her legs to her chest.

“It might be fun, right?” Tristan asks.

Shrugging, Molly places her chin onto her hands.

They both watch the portal light up, a plethora of clones marching through. It has to pause for a brief moment, then it continues to spew individuals out of it. Tristan glances down at Molly, knowing there’s no point in attempting to converse. The silence doesn’t bother him, and she seems to take more comfort out of not having to make dreadful small talk. He hates it too, so this works.

Eon and his parents eventually pass through. Waving at him, Tristan reclines in his seat, “You and your folks actually came. I didn’t think any of you left the house.”

Standing with his arms behind his back, at ease, Eon smirks, “You’re all lucky we don’t come out more often.”

Tristan sticks his tongue out at him. He gestures to his left, “You remember Molly?”

Eon looks down at her, “Yes, we have met before. Nice to see you again.”

Molly flushes, turning away, “Nice to see you too…”

He glances at Tristan, who gives a one-shoulder shrug.

She keeps quiet, looking at the people around her. Hordak and his brothers all stand out as one unit, and other cousins similar to Eon slowly arrive. Not as large in number, with more variation than Hordak’s species but less than natives. She watches Etherians coming forth as well, and doesn’t wave or acknowledge them. Hoping to blend with the background, she scoots further away, sinking behind Tristan.

Tristan notes her discomfort and doesn’t move.

Eon, however, waves at some relatives, who rush over to greet him.

Molly frowns, accepting her fate. She takes to watching Eon speak with his family, his tall, sleek body impressive even among those similar to him in build. His hair, cropped shorter at the sides, falls in front of his forehead, a darker hue than his cousin Odessa. His eyes are a lovely shade, bordering on magenta with a stronger red tint, the sclera an equally pretty color, lighter than his irises. His usual confident smirk remains on his face throughout, bright, sharp teeth against the usual backdrop of pale face with the sides of his cheekbones and neck becoming a shock of dark blue or purple. It seems to be a common male trait, since Odessa’s face is white all around, but she isn’t sure. She doesn’t see the other cousins close enough to tell.

She spies Odessa wandering with her device, either barking orders or quietly checking off things. Long, lilac hair floats behind her when not in use, her frame just as slim and tight as the others, and inheriting a tall height seems to be the norm for them. Despite her gorgeous features, Molly finds it interesting, also intimidating, how much redder Odessa’s eyes and sclera are compared to Eon’s.

Hydrangea is speaking with Odessa now, platinum blonde hair brushing against her body, falling in the softest of waves to the small of her back. Her lithe frame befits the gentler, kinder nature she has, which isn’t surprising considering who her parents are. But there’s that powerful change in limb, her arms spiking at the shoulder in dark red, the skin of her arms mottled with it, until it reaches her elbows, where it spikes again, hardens, forming another patch of chitinous skin that reaches her fingertips, claws neatly filed down. And then there’s the tail, shorter, but as potent as Scorpia’s. Deadly and graceful.

She looks up at Tristan, beautiful, brown eyes staring off to the distance. Long lashes frame them, delicate yet full. His hands rest lightly over his knees, fingernails painted black. Hair reaching the end of his neck, lightly touching muscular shoulders, it enriches brown skin with its color, more than a mere dark purple. It’s the color of wine in the dark, of a gorgeous night as the last remnants of light dash away. The blue of his clothes highlight everything further, lavish gold trim clashing against the bright colors, revealing every taut muscle without meaning to, and she traces the curve of his spine with her eyes.

She feels a gaze on her, and finds her brother staring at her from a distance. Molly, snapping from her reverie, darts her sight to the ground. Unaware of Tristan looking in her direction.

Once enough participants have arrived, Odessa claps her hands, “Alright, people! Listen up: I have divided you all into the following groups. Step up this way, where I will assign you all with a place to go to.”

Adam bounds up out of nowhere, whispering, “Can whatever group I’m in be called Team Sexy?”

Odessa ignores him, “Let’s begin, shall we?”

HYDRANGEA

Age: 15

Species: Etherian

“Alright,” Odessa says. “I’m going to show you 10 pictures. You will have seven seconds to absorb all the details for them, and afterward, I will ask you one simple question about what you can remember.”

“You got it!” Hydrangea sits in her chair, comfortable. “Sounds easy enough.”

Odessa smiles, “Here’s your first one.”

She holds up a simple image of table mats atop a wooden surface, decorated with plates of breakfast foods, drinks, and fresh fruits.

“Okay, ready for the question?”

“Yep!”

“What fruits topped the waffles?”

“Oh, um… berries and apples?”

Writing it down, Odessa proceeds with the next image.

TRISTAN

Age: 17

Species: Etherian

“Hello!” Entrapta says, bringing him in. “I’m going to show you 10 pictures for less than 10 seconds each, and you’ll let me know what you remember.”

“Sure thing,” Tristan replies, sitting upright.

She pulls out an image of miscellaneous items and personal effects on a desk, three photographs in the middle, a drawing in one of the corners, a grey notebook, and a folder with intricate patterns.

“Okay, ready for the question?”

“Yes.”

“Were there tickets on the table?”

Tristan mulls his answers for a moment, “No.”

MOLLY

Age: 15

Species: Etherian

Odessa approaches the girl, relieved that she doesn’t have to deal with the handful that was her brother. She looks at Molly, “I’m going to hold up 10 pictures for you, and you will have seven seconds to absorb the image. Afterward, I will ask you questions.”

“Alright,” Molly nods, nails clicking against each other.

The image is of a mountain peak, glinting from the light; the moon shines above it, and a trip of hoofed animals moving along its surface.

“What was the total number of baby goats in the image?”

Molly thinks over the total, and says, “Five.”

ADAM

Age: 15

Species: Etherian

Entrapta comes into the room, “Hello! I’m going to be showing you some pictures—”

Adam interrupts her, “Is this going to take long?”

“Nope! It takes less than five minutes for this segment to be complet—”

“Do we get paid to do this?”

“...No.”

Scratching his nose, Adam leans back in his chair, “Got it, got it. Lay it on me, girl!”

Entrapta smiles, “Great! So, I have 10 pictures and I will show them to you for about seven seconds. I will ask you questions after each one about what you saw.”

“Question real quick: is this one of those tests that explain anything about your psychosis?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it gonna tell me anything, like, am I gonna learn about who is the most likely to be a murderer or nymphomaniac?”

Raising a brow at him, Entrapta says, “I can’t divulge too much about the study to participants. But this is not that kind of test.”

“Aw… okay,” Adam shifts back further in his seat, lifting the front legs from the ground. “Well, that’s less fun.”

Entrapta proceeds to bring out a picture: a series of potted plants are lined on shelves, different heights and colors smashed closely together in the frame, their pots not resembling the others save for a few.

“What was the centre motif for the pots?”

Adam scratches his chin, “Frog, I think.”

EON

Age: 18

Species: Etherian and ?

Odessa approaches her cousin, sitting relaxed in the seat. She had gone through the first ten pictures with him already. She glances at him, “Are you ready to continue with the process?”

“Whatever this study is, I’m assuming that you need me to come back again for another trial run.”

“Yes, you will be returning a few times after today to aid in the study, as per your agreement on the written form.”

“Of course.”

“You went through the first half, and you’re going to begin the second half now. This is slightly different,” Odessa explains. Instead of photographs, she holds up a pad, similar in size and weight to her telecommunicator. “I am going to hold up one image: a grid of white and black squares. Then, I will show you a second image, of the same number of squares on the grid; however, you will choose the one square you believe was white in both image one and image two. Image three will have the grids with numbers in the squares instead for you to pick. The amount of time will be the same, seven seconds. There are four levels of difficulty, and you will proceed until we reach the last level.”

Nodding, Eon watches her lift the screen to his eyes. A grid of white and black appears, and he keeps in mind which are white only. The second image appears. Then the third. He makes his decision. He will not know if he is right, as the data is processed within for the researchers alone.

Odessa keeps her face neutral the entire time, intrigued at what this part of the test will yield from everyone else.

TALON

Age: approx. 90 (total) | approx. 52 (mental) | approx. 52 (physiological)

Species: ?

Entrapta smiles, “We do appreciate you helping with the test.”

“It is no trouble,” Talon states. “You and my niece are a select few that do not leave me…”

“Irritated?”

“We’ll use that word.”

Entrapta approaches her brother-in-law, setting herself down on swathes of hair, “Are you ready for the second half of the test?”

“Yes. By all means, little sister, proceed.”

“Excellent! I’m going to show you a grid with black and white squares. Another image will appear after on the device. The number of squares will not change, however, you have to decide what is the one square that remained white. You will pick that in the third image, where the squares will all be numbered.”

“Understood. You may show me the first image.”

W.H.

Age: approx. 40 (total) | approx. 23 (mental) | approx. 27 (physiological)

Species: ?

“This must be exciting for you, isn’t it?” W.H. asks. “You haven’t done a study like this in a while.”

Readying the pad, she nods, “It has been a few years since I’ve conducted anything in this manner.”

“I still remember when you were little, and you insisted on having your first experiment be a methane explosion. You were so cute!”

Odessa smiles, “Speaking of memory, we’re going to begin the second half of the test. You will have the same amount of time to memorize the image on screen. Another will follow right after, and your task is to choose which square on the grid remained white. The image will be your selection on a numbered grid.”

“Sounds fun!”

Holding it up for him, Odessa watches his eyes stay in place, focused. A flicker to indicate change on the screen, then another before he makes his decision.

HORDAK

Age: approx. 56 (total) | approx. 57 (mental) | approx. 35 (physiological)

Species: ?

Entrapta can’t help but smile at him, “Thanks for helping, Lab Partner!”

Hordak smiles back, rising from the chair, “Of course. The experiment seems to be going well.”

“It’s been so fascinating!” Entrapta lifts herself up in the air, at his height. “Everyone has been super helpful, even when they’re rambling about their own assumptions!”

“Who was rambling?”

“One of Catra’s kids—the boy. He was very interesting when he talked, but I had to stay focused! We’re collecting so much data… Odessa is going to be ecstatic!”

Happy to see her in good spirits, Hordak leans forward, kissing her cheek, “When you’re done, I will be waiting for you in our room.”

Entrapta waggles her eyebrows at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Ooh! Is this about that new maneuver you wanted to show me?”

“We’ll see if your memory serves you just as well tonight,” Hordak smirks.

Squealing, Entrapta kicks her legs behind her, pecking his mouth with her own. “Can’t wait!”

The results, overall, took two months to compile through the data machine and to check back in with the participants. None of the groups had different numbers, pictures, objects, or words. Odessa and Entrapta tested everyone on their eidetic and photographic memory ability. Group A had no distractions, Group B had Etherians with distractions only, Group C was where her cousins had the disturbances, and Group D it was her uncles with diversions.

When it came to eidetic memory, the numbers didn’t vary too much. But the photographic memory yielded noteworthy results. Each group was brought back a month after being tested to see if they could recall things better. A few Etherians showed some promising ability for it, but overall it wasn’t strong. Her cousins showed stronger signs for photographic memory, Eon being one of the best candidates.

But her uncles were nearly at a 97% rate of accuracy. Talon and W.H. showed an adeptness for remembering things weeks later. Hordak was somewhere in the middle. She wonders why.

“Mom,” she says, holding the charts in her hair. “I know that photographic memory is rare, but these numbers are unreal.”

“I know! The majority of your relatives have a knack for it! That’s so fascinating.”

“I have a theory that it might be due to the hivemind, and perhaps the military training they underwent. It would make sense why they have such capability, even two decades later,” Odessa says. She pulls another chart toward them, tapping her forefinger in quick successions behind it. “It may or may not be that, since we’re not certain of Dad’s origins, but it would explain aspects of it.”

Entrapta’s hair moves her behind her daughter, peering over her shoulder, “It may. I saw that Wrong Hordak was remarkable with photographic memory, and Talon as well.”

“I believe it’s possible that it might be due to neither having depressive episodes. It may have been a group study, but I saw that clones similar to Dad in terms of mental health had a tendency toward memory loss or confusion. It’s not as often or strong as Etherians, or a couple of my cousins, but it’s there. Brains are brains after all.”

“It is exceptional to write this in our records. I wish we had more examples to go by,” Entrapta says. She smiles, “I think it says quite a lot when you compare it to Etherians and your cousins, though.”

“I do find this riveting. Even if it’s Dad cloned thousands of times, there’s something in their brains, their minds, that can provide clues to them as a whole. It’d be prudent to conduct more research, but I’d like to begin as soon as possible, and I can add notes as I go along.”

Entrapta pats her daughter’s head, “And now that you have this information, what do you intend to do with it?”

Odessa looks up at her mother, then back at the data. “I’m going to have Tris and Gea come with me on a little field trip.”

#entrapdak #entrapta #hordak #entrapdak fankid #odessa #shera #spop

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