>>6200899But, there's a question you have to ask. "What is that firefly?"
"Ah! This beloved thing. They're found all over the world, and people call them different things. Will-o-the-Wisp. Onibi. Fairies. And these all refer to strange lights. But in the records of Mother Nature's Providence, this is called Anima." Blythe seems to be joyed to discuss the topic, gazing at the tiny thing resting on his hand. "It's a programmable microdrone, part of a larger swarm or school. We suppose it was some manner of secret technology that was developed shortly before the Calamity. Those that ransacked the labs found nothing but golden clouds of seemingly useless free-floating dust. Some theorize that, much like the legends, these clouds are the souls of those who did not want to depart this world."
Rising to his feet, he lights one of your cigars and withdraws his pistol. "We don't know how it's powered. We don't know how the swarm communicates with each other. We do not know how to program them. We do know they are mechanical - such is clearly visible - and that tools and weapons can manipulate them. We know that they are perfectly reusable." As he raises the weapon upright, the glimmering golden micromachine scampers up his hand and into a cylinder-like compartment. "And, I know, that if these rumors are true, and they are the spirits of the dead, they must be treated with respect and love."
You know, with all the crazy things you've seen, maybe they are. But one last thing. "Where did you get this from?"
Stepping down densely packed and poorly maintained stairs to the secluded access point, Percival stopped. In a struggle to find the words, he chuckles. The gravity of the situation is hitting him.
"Once upon a time, I was lost. I sold everything I had and abandoned my world. I had walked the breadth of Albion, intent on dying to whatever monster would find me. On a hidden lake in a wood, an Old Oak found me lamenting at her feet. She took me in, and restored my faith. After some time, I left for Helsinki, and she gave this to me."
Nobody is in the Stormwatch if they aren't bothered by something, it seems. "What's your opinion on the little guys?"
He walks on ahead. "It's nice to believe."
You take a puff of the cigar. You understand his perspective.
