Chapter Text
Jenka was off on a separate recon when Dimo, Maxim, and Oggie found a few revenants shambling around and put them out of their misery. After checking that they themselves had no notable injuries -- and checking further that Dimo wasn't rhinohiding again -- they looked back to the bodies.
"The Other is such a lousy master," Maxim found himself hissing with disgust.
"Ho, yeah," Dimo said. "That strong a Spark, but can't trust own charisma? Worthless."
Maxim nodded. How much flash and fire must The Other's eyes lack, to have to take hearts by force? Oh, Maxim was in favor of force for plenty of things, like a good raid, sure. 'Your treasure and/or your life!' and all that was just fine, just fine. But there was a big difference between putting the Fear in someone and putting the Not-Someone in someone. It was cheating in the worst way.
Being Gifted with the Spark was supposed to cultivate a way of being where people wanted to serve them. The Other wanted to be a god? The first Heterodyne in Mechanicsburg had been hailed as a divine consort just by what he did with himself.
The Heterodynes went mad, and the Jaegers went along happily. 'Here, drink this. Nine chances out of ten it'll kill you' didn't work any other way. The Other would probably have had to use a funnel.
Sometimes, Maxim remembered being human, riding with the horde, proving himself over and over and over again. He remembered the Heterodyne of the time. Now that was a Master, real command in every step. A wind through the world, he was. Not just a Spark, but a forest fire: all-consuming curiosity and blazing vitality. The whole family did tend to run hot; that was probably part of why so many of them had been not so much with the shirts -- not that Maxim had ever Tried Anything; just saying.
He remembered when the big night had come: his turn. The Master saying, "Yes, I see what you are." And then the ritual and the taste and the searing slide down his throat. The not-quite-dying and the way his skin filled with different blood and his senses opened up, with the Master the first thing he saw and heard and smelled.
He remembered helping bury the nine-out-of-ten, then watching -- and feeling -- as the survivors' teeth and claws came in. He remembered the big party with more-regular drinks and fighting and women in hats. He remembered every battle after that being so much fun.
And serving the Heterodyne could get people killed, of course, but he didn't put people to risks he wouldn't take himself. Quite the contrary, as the insisting on leaving the Solstice parties alone had always attested -- and he always did leave alone, because he knew what the Jaegers would do if he were in danger around them, and he was not a cheater!
Eventually, well... Jaegers tended to live much, much longer than their masters. But it was kind of like what Oggie sometimes said about his wife not really being gone when he looked at his descendents. Every Heterodyne was not only a new and wonderful little nutcase, but also a remaining piece of the one who picked Maxim for the draught.
That was how love worked, wasn't it? Clearly, hardly anybody had ever loved the Other.