Precious Things

Finding a quiet and concealed area was no easy task. Not unless you desired to strand yourself at sea. However, one could be made quite easily. The three sisters carefully reenter the theatre that they had found themselves in only a few days prior, making sure that none but themselves currently occupy it. Once they've conducted a thorough examination of their surroundings, they spread out and pour their energies into forming a barrier over the area. It was not something that would merely conceal its contents but erase them from normal reality to an extent. The ceiling is replaced with a prismatic sky that seems to stretch far past the bounds of the room in which they erected the barrier. This was the first and most important thing their mother had taught them to do.

And no sooner is the barrier complete does their beloved mother manifest before them, descending from the endless sky. They kneel and bow their heads. She stares blankly at them and approaches the "eldest" of the trio.

Nihil: "Have you brought what I asked?"

Her tone is distant. In addition to her vacant demeanor, it makes her seem entirely unreachable despite being close enough that the intricate embroidery on her dress can be made out with ease.

Miden: "Of course, Mother. There was some trouble, but I gathered everything just as you requested."

Nulla: "You weren't the only one."

Nefer: "Yeah! Stop trying to take all the credit!"

Any semblance of ceremony is shattered as the sisters bicker amongst themselves. Nihil simply watches silently. Her mind is fixated on a single innocuous word: Mother. She could not remember when or why they had taken to referring to her as such, but it didn't bother her. It was true that they had all come from her and shared many traits, so it was entirely reasonable that they might fashion themselves as sisters and her as their mother. It was more intriguing than anything, as she did not understand those terms as they did. She was her own mother and had known of no others in her generation whom she might call sister or brother. Even when expanded beyond a human's understanding, these concepts were unfamiliar to her.

Nihil: "Sisters should not fight. I...appreciate your efforts."

Her words somehow seem more stilted than usual as she struggles to find the words she believes they want to hear. The three don't seem to mind as they beam at her approval and produce a strange assortment of items. Stuffed animals, jewelry, clothing, diaries, letters, books, and whatever else one might consider precious are laid out on the floor. Her cold stare lingers over them, seemingly in deep thought, before looking back to her daughters.

Nihil: "Each of you choose."

The homunculi look between each other and the collected items, eyes full of uncertainty. They were loyal — unquestionably so. So, none of them had thought to ask why they had been told to collect seemingly random objects.

Miden: "We would like to, but-"

Nefer: "You never told us what all this was for."

Nihil: "...I see. I need someone to protect you. These items will help summon them."

Nulla: "What do we need protection from?"

Concern colors their features. Her answer had only inspired more confusion in them. After all, they had been granted great strength with which to act as their mother's physical presence in the world. And although they had only seen her display what amounted to parlor tricks, they knew she was far from helpless. Who, or what, could have earned this extra caution?

It had been brief, and she had sustained no injury, but Nihil knew that her encounter in the depths could not be dismissed. Whatever the true nature of her kindred spirit, he was at least capable enough to fight on par with her daughters. She was certain that he would have proven himself even more formidable had she given him the chance. And if those Magi had one of him, they could have more. She had created three of her protectors.

Nihil: "This world and its people are hostile to use. It is simply best to prepare for the worst."

Her response is unsatisfactory, but it's clear that she doesn't care to go into detail about the situation. If something did not need to be said, then she often did not say it. It was simply how she was.

With their worries pushed aside, the sisters each go about picking an item. While Nulla claims a storybook without a second thought, the others nervously deliberate over their choice. The second to choose is Nefer, who picks out a well-used knife that seemed to at one time be quite ornate. Miden clenches a fist as she reaches for a brooch that sparkles so brightly that they all must have given at least a glance. She hesitates, and her hand changes course to what seems to be a homemade scarf in grievous need of repair.

Once they've all chosen, Nihil has her daughters arrange the objects in a pattern and begins drawing a complex series of circles around them. Her plan was rather simple: she would awaken the possibilities in these items to serve as fuel for the summoning. While not strictly necessary, this process was more easily completed within the thin layer of non-existence that had been set up. She says a short chant as each item shimmers faintly as it's reduced to nothing but its unrefined essence. However, the next step would require her to become vulnerable.

Cracks form in the sky until it completely shatters and reality once again exerts its will over the Witch. Nihil's being is once again riddled with the pain of existence. Then, using a ritual dagger, she splits her palm open and lets the ichor spill onto the circle. As it shines brightly, she reels in pain. The World sinks its fangs into her form and painfully draws her essence into the ritual. It recognizes her strangeness, her ethereal nature, and gnaws at her core in search of a better anchor. Nefer rushes to aid her mother, but her sisters grab her and pull her back. Finally, the pain subsides to a more manageable degree as the light dims.

Miden, Nulla, and Nefer surround their mother, eyeing the circle with suspicion and preparing themselves to fight. Rather, they eye what now lies within the circle. A red-clad girl stands at its center, looking almost serene. Yet their senses scream to them that she is a dangerous animal. The girls stares at the, gaze fixing on the exhausted Witch.

Red Cloaked Girl: "Which of you is my Master?"

There's a tension in the air. The homunculi are unsure what to answer or if they can even trust the creature that their mother summoned. Nihil examines the Spirit for a moment before stepping in front of her daughters. It seems she's answered in all but words, yet what leaves her mouth is unexpected by all but her.

Nihil: "These children shall command you, and you will be their sister."