Chapter Text
The Dredge was not one to think.
It acted in the moment, responding to instinct. Feeling.
No, thinking took too long. Collectives within would ponder and bicker amongst each other - by the time they reached any unanimous decision, said situation would already pass.
Sometimes, parts conspired against the other. Past feuds, repressed emotions, all boiling over into the present; the Druanee left at a standstill.
Life had been quiet. Still. A subconscious drive to scavenge and feed off humanity’s refuse. Tragedy. Suffering… Every so often, a war- a plague! Gluttonous feasting that amalgams and forms them into something.
Then, silence. Gone. Wisps of sapience fading into the black mist of a gaped void; a shell of subconscious thought.
It was all still new. Memories of slaughter, the betrayal, all fresh in their mind.
And although Stamper had taught his children well, his flock have become temperamental. Disorganized. Each voice vying for attention in the Dredge; frenzied crowds fighting for a chance to be heard- to cry suffering. One would sabotage the other, factions breaking and renewing every unending night.
They’re trying to cook an egg.
Self-sufficiency was vital within the community – and old habits die hard. Several hands try to handle it, some smooth and delicate, others rough and callous, but only one can hold it. Even now, at this seemingly mundane task, its own body squabbles against itself. Swatting, pushing, dozens of voices enacting their independence outwards: an indifferent world peering back. A particularly bold soul flings themself towards the holder, causing a slender hand to spasm and slip hold of her prize.
Down and down, it goes. A crack against the pan, and its golden-white contents spill into the hissing fire. Unsatisfying sizzles and pops…
Another failure.
Talbot’s greasy hands reach to help, but they swat him away. Beady eyes pierce into the Dredge, undiscernible and analytic, but no malice stirs. Instead, he turns away, opting to observe from a distance. It pays no mind.
Again.
Practice. For as long as it takes. Whilst the nestled collective differ in actions, all wish to accomplish the task at hand. If not for themselves, then for each other. They have all the time needed to get this right, to take back some control from her.
It may be forever, but forever it shall be.