Collection of random moments in the story

Aren: "Rose-colored glasses," Aren breathed. Their eyes were shining from the light of the screen. "I never thought this would have worked." The expierment in question was simple. It was just the build of a room. A room which worked as a large pair 3d glasses. The idea seemed abursd to everyone but Goalith understood the need for the room. Aren laughed internally, the room would serve its purpose they knew. This was step one of a plan that had too many facets to write down, let alone explain. Yet, it still made sense to Aren. It was simple. To reach Nyx in waking hours, a simulated sleeping sensation would need to takeover the body. This way Nyx could be reached in a controlled fashion. The room had more uses of course. It could function as a torture chamber, though this was only widely understood, not spoken of. It seemed taboo. Instead it was purposed as a training room. A room that could and would simulate a battle. With addtional parts, the room could be fully emersive. Nyx's prescene suddenly filled the room. Aren involenteerably shivered. Nyx's piercing eyes behind them. No talking, don't even acknowledge her. Aren knew this wouldn't work and so quickly found their way to their room. A room so strange, that even Aren didn't understand the whole room.

Aren +Soul: Aren looked at the white apparation. This is was Aren's soul. Souls were white with black swatches. The black repersenting holes, broken morals, lost ethics, and moral corruption. Aren took in their soul. A black slash over the heart ran deep but where the heart was the black was less inky deep. The soul was surronded in small black cuts everywhere with the torso being more than halk black. Forcing themself, they look up, Aren looked at the head. The soul's head was fully inky black. The sight infuratated Aren who lashed out. Attacking the spirit, and watching the black stains grow on the head. Once they saw the correlation, they stopped. The legs and feet has sworls of black all around. Aren tried to figure out how much black was in the soul when they realized that there was more black than white on the front. Yet on the back, the whole back was a shining white. Only the sworls on the legs and inky head broke the white. Aren turned away. Now it was clear. Aren was the most morally corrupt of the Village. No one else had abandoned their morals as often. No one else willingly gave up their soul like Aren had. The heart and head were the most black now. They had holes so deep that Aren doubted they would heal.
  Aren and Ib:
Aren felt the sting of knife as it slipped out of their neck. Only seconds later, the death was over and Aren was full healed and alive. All cells perfectly normal. Countinuing to fight, Aren tenderly reached out for Goliath. The immedate transimsiion of pain and depseration sent Aren over instantly. There covered in a pool of their own blood, lay a dying Goliath. Aren kneeled down, eyes not believing what they. Hands fumbling with spell indrigents, Aren started a spell. The arachic spell woven with sarcifices and blood, simply added life to an indivial. Goliath wasn't dead yet, meaning the spell could activate. Speaking quickly, out of breath, Aren traded their blood, tears, and their fear of heights alongside energy and soulmatter to power the spell. Neon green magic flashed around them as Aren's tears evaporated mid-fall and their soul grew more tattered. Soliders watched from the sidelines, as fleeting protective shelids were put up. Plusing rapidly, Aren's eyes glowed and so did the rest of their body. It wasn't enough, Aren gave up their bandages and scabs. Baby pink and soft skin covered their body. Minutes later, the spell ended, and Aren sobbed into Goliath's side, muttering the final sylabols of the spell. As the words ended, Goliath woke up. The enemies countinued to fight, and Aren quickly found a nearby grove to recover.
Aren later: "If Goliath died.... I don't think I would be alive. Not anymore. Goliath was the only person... one of the only people who understood, who knew. If they died, I couldn't let the world countine. I would sleep forever. And one day, nuke the whole world. .... Goliath was my (insert Seshatian word here). In most languages it means Brother or Sibling. It's deeper than that. It means sibling who you are, grew up, lived with, expierenced life with, would kill for, would die for, would kill yourself, your other half in a way. It runs deeper than blood, it can be found, or given. It's not love in a way. Or rather it's familial loyality, like a dog and it's master. I'm the dog if you haven't noticed. Love of family, or the bond of it also works. Bonded and trusted sibling is more accurate I would say. " Someone else "If someone told you to kill Goliath because of secrets they carry or something petty would you do it?" Aren: "Yes,"
Aren: "If I commited s*icide one day, would anyone notice?" Other aren: "No, they wouldn't", Aren: ".... shoot, you're right (looking down, serious, semi-joking)"
Olive to Aren: "Why is your gun pink?" Aren: "It's what? HUH?! I said a GUN not a PLASTIC ONE IDIOT!" (Olive: who are you talking to?" (Morphing shiftes" Olive visble confusion
  Fyodor and Connor: Connor and Fyodor finished suiting up. They were both in a foul mood. Connor could almost smell the upcoming fight. White hair flashing, Fyodor telepathed "Let's go." Connor inwardly cringed, but nodded. They both had a simple mission today. Just dispatch of an escaped prisoner. The prisoner in question was not in any way harmful to the Village. Or the Elven Sovereignty for that manner. They both climbed out of the underground chamber that acted as the enterence to their base of operations. Transforming, Connor become a wolf and started the hunt. Fyodor might have had a good sense smell with the hunters, but compared to a Shapeshifters/Lupteron, he was blind in the complexites of scent. Suiting up had seemed pointless now. Still, Connor rushed off. Fyodor closely followed but his steps were light. A tree rustled. Connor looked up. The idiot! He was leaping from tree to tree to scout from above. Hey! Duneta! You're loud. Fyodor's response seemed almost comically calm compared to Connor's yelling. His voice was always honey sweet and even tempered. Even his telepathic voice. Ohh, Contenshka cares about the sound of leaves that no one can actully hear. Connor considered ignoring Fyodor, but instead answered with clear voice. Duneta, I care about the mission, I would rather "Go to Hell" but then Zeutuktu would likely have my ears has his slippers. Fyodor seemed confused by this statement. While Connor had been unusually emotional today, this new god that had just been mentioned made no sense to him. Zeutuktu was a real guy! he laugh telepathed. Connor scowled as much as a wolf could do. Zeutuktu was a Shapeshifters/Lupteron who lived in the Northern Tribes. He was the one who founded five different tribes. One was the Novak Tribe. These tribes are considered to each embody a core prinicple he taught us. The Novak are the youngest tribe. They repersent the nutaak. Fyodor laughed out loud. Quiet Duneta! Someone will hear us! Fyodor heeded this, but still clearly thought this story was stupid. Nutaak really means New in arachic Northern. Today it means Mumiksuk or Change. Connor stayed slient for a bit. Once after being found being a bat, they said that Connor had commited a sin. Connor had refutted them by saying that turning into a bat was like Mumiksuk. They had snapped back that an Akalgik like Connor had no matter in the matters of Nutaak. Connor remebered the sheer emtionally pain that followed. Akalgik was an insult to Northern tribe members who used their bat forms often. The word was a corrupted word. Akargik, which was far kinder, was often the word used for Northen bat-shipfers. It really meant bird. Liliac, the proper word for bat, was rarely used. Connor never understood why Zeututku had called the Novak tribe Change. Sure, the Novak tribe had lead the other five tribes in the past. Turning into a bat wasn't strange. Not even in the Northern tribes. But it was only for flight and aerial travel. Contenshka, you still there? Fyodor was as concerned as he could be. Connor knew because the worry had been transmitted as well. Words thundered in Connor's head. Killuk, Killulikiri, and Pacatos joined in. All meant sinner. How fitting, Connor thought. Fyodor? Connor asked. Fyodor almost seemed relived by the response. His "Yes" was hopeful. Go to hell. Connor's answer was rude. Connor knew that but still. The trail was long but getting stronger. Fyodor seemed stunned silent. He tenderly reached out, even transmitting feelings of pain from the insult. Connor, what happened on this day? Connor almost wanted to howl with laughter. Connor's howl would have been perfect too. Not like his siblings broken howls without any of the grace. Nanook's needlecases! You just realized. Connor sulked. Today was the lunar anniversity of Connor's banishment from the Novak tribe. Pronouced excommuncated, Connor had roamed the tundra alone. The Amaguklhinak or lone wolf, as Connor was called lived in constant hatred. Today was the day I left the Novak tribe for good. Fyodor knew of Connor's runaway attempts but the bitterness in Connor's voice seemed to say that Connor had no choice in leaving. As a child, Connor had been called a Nuvak or Baby fawn. Later it was Koko. Such a perfect cub, the village elders gossiped the first time, so sad this one is such a disapointment. The tribe leaders were perfectly incompentant. Connor hated them with every inch of his body. Every rule laid out in front of Connor had been broken or at the very least had been questioned by Connor. Fyodor merely nodded. As a child, and even now Connor hated making descions in the moment. Connor always gave himself time to think through a siuation. Too emtional, he berated himself. The trail ended. What. The trail had ended. Connor scanned the surronding areas. Nothing. It was strong and then it vanished. Fyodor, we have a situation. The disapointment that anger had kept at bay was rushing back full force. Today had to be the one day emtions would drown Connor. Yet, from outside, Connor looked far from emtional. There was the large eyes and the curiousity that remotely controlled Connor, but the inner confusion was disguised. Fyodor glided down. Connor telepathed the emtions, making a plan to fly up and check the area from above. Poof. Fyodor looked up, still holding the clothes that Connor had worn earlier. Fyodor started to search the area. Connor's eyes adjusted from closeness of the ground to the beautiful breath of sky waiting for his wings. Connor looked around. All of sudden, Connor noticed it. Silence ruled the skies today. Fitting for a solemn day like today. Constant conversation was stupid, silence could replace certain people's voices well. Notice anything? Fyodor's voice startled Connor. Yes, the trail countines in the sky.
Let's go! Fyodor's happiness was a bit forced in truth.
Get up here. Connor hated liars. And slow people. And useless people were the worst. At least the other two did something. The Asiak tribe were like the slow people Connor noted. Arvait had been his home. And it taught him how to catch bats. Like this scoundrel trying to outrun a hunter and Lupteron. How futile. They might have known of a person tracking them. Fyodor's assement sounds right but it laced with a tone of not caring. I'll be back. Connor flew off. The tracker started to beep on Fyodor's watch. Fyodor countinued the hunt bringing up the rear. His least favorite position. Still, Fyodor hadn't realized that Connor was as affected by the Novak tribe as it seemed. Fyodor countinued following, trying to understand how the target had suddenly flew up. It almost seemed like a helicopter expect the forest was still. No matter how Connor nagged Fyodor, even Connor saw the potiential in Fyodor. Fyodor ruled out any large, instruive carriers. Magic? Seemed unlikly. There would have been a lingering feeling. Sighing, and pulling out a stick, Fyodor started to weave a spell. Point me in the direction of the person in my mind. the stick obeyed. As Fyodor arrived, he saw a livid Connor pacing around a tree. In human form. "What happened?" Connor growled and spat out a Lupteron curse. "The maggot merged with a tree." Fyodor didn't quite understand. "So cut it down." Connor looked Fyodor and answered saracstically "With a magical chainsaw your highness?"