#I have this possibly off the wall headcanon that the game-verse Solo grew up on Mu but didn't remember it- like he has amnesia

[lastmurianwarrior]

💭 !!

((HOo boy, I had fun - settling on a scene was tough though. With this blog's Solo pulling from the games and anime most, it's an interesting dance to incorporate as much lore from either media as possible, while fleshing out the details and making sense of it. I want to do Laplace too, but this ended up long enough, that I think I'll save that for a new post. This is a window into a particularly pivotal day for Solo, from long long ago.))

FLASHBACK: Aching eyes from bright sunlight that poured in through the pale-green air shuttle's sliding door, was the first greeting from this ground-dwelling destination to meet the passengers from Mu as they arrived for a diplomatic meeting that would inevitably unravel into unamusing discourse.

Solo followed from behind as the small crew of Mu officials ambled out onto a wide dusty circle. At 13 he was deemed mature and expected to take on the responsibilities of his noble position. Getting to know the world and involving himself in geopolitical discussions would be a start. But Mu’s tactician always wanted him to play along and read from a script; becoming furious if Solo changed any of the details.

It was too embarrassing to admit he hadn’t paid enough attention to what was happening between Mu and the tribes on the ground. But some of the things he’d had to say, never set well with him, and he at least knew from faces in the crowds that it didn’t set well with the tribes either. Mulling over that fact, Solo didn’t feel like involving himself this time, and the spectacle of this foreign town was enough to tempt him into skipping the day’s meeting altogether to go explore on his own; to get to know the people and sniff out some local treats.

The tactician; Mu’s master-planner, a tall old man, dressed darkly and with a hat like a tower on his head, flattened at the top, marched in front, expecting everyone to keep up with his long stride. He threw a few indignant sneers back at Solo for lagging behind, but didn’t waste any time waiting around.

Jagged megaliths with the visages of important people and revered animals; as though guarding the walkways, guided the visitors to a stone brick roadway populated by village-folk; merchants, carvers, toolmakers, and farmers all with their fare and animals to offer.

There was little hope of convincing the locals that Mu technology wasn’t all powered by some magic or divine force; even many of Mu’s people themselves still believed this. A small portion of the village dawned their most elaborate garb to dance, while musicians of woodwind and bone instruments played tunes almost magical in their own way. Such flamboyance was motivated by hopes of earning favor from their sky visitors, of course.

Each of the Mu officials strolled on, paying no heed to the garish ensemble, stopping only briefly to look back with steely eyes as they entered the tallest building for miles; a relic of stone architecture from a time when the floating continent of Mu was still rooted firmly in the ground; a mere hundred years prior. Newer construction surrounding it seemed oddly more primitive; distinguished by a framework of wood, mastodon tusks, and painted animal hides.

Rather than join his party inside, Solo took a turn on his own to walk further down the street. Breaking the sunlight induced glare, his eyes filled with wonder at the rocky scrublands, patched with temperate foliage and exotic flowers, then shifted to soaking in the sight of all the people; many of them thoroughly tanned, wrapped in lightweight yellow, green, orange, or red textiles, and leather garb. Camelids and barely tame village-dogs moseyed about the street, which narrowed, then broke off into a dead end marked by spiny overgrowth that trailed off in the direction of a distantly roaring waterfall from glacial melt.

As he kept his pace along the bustling street, the thought of moving aside for others hadn’t so much as cross his mind. In spite of the open airspace, the walkway was claustrophobic compared to the vast halls within the upper floors of Mu that he’d grown up in. Roughly brushing shoulders with folk disinterested in showing the noble Murian respect, however, struck Solo with the gut-wrenching sense that something had changed in the atmosphere; there was a rising tension distinctly in opposition to the affection, wonder, intrigue, and most importantly; respect, that his presence once garnered.

Suspicious and apprehensive eyes began to track his white-haired, ruby-eyed presence from all sides, and seemed to grow in number with every step. He had no choice but to stand out. Even the sheen of his perfectly angular earrings set him apart from the largely stone-age folk occupying this territory. Attempting to pay no mind to them, he chose a collection of produce to fixate on; legumes, wild grains, and various medicinal herbs sorted into piles atop mats, or stuffed into laboriously hand-woven baskets. The merchant’s most prized however, were dainty yellow-orange squash whose flowers had been hand pollinated to ensure a pure, sweeter new strain; a dozen of them to the side, clean and neatly ordered.

While small-scale efforts were made to farm on the floating continent, ground dwelling villages such as this one were agriculturally vital to Mu’s food line. Few peoples in the world had proven so dedicated to cultivating new resilient and appetizing crop varieties as here. It was both a necessity and a luxury Mu couldn’t afford to loose by getting into a war with.

“Give me your best one.”

Solo stiffly ordered, absentminded of his entitled tone; after all, why shouldn’t he want the best, when the best is what his people always seemed to expect of him? He was taken aback when the seller chided him for his complex, and refused to give him one unless he had something of value to offer, like his earrings, which was a definite no.

Unsettled, he made a silent turn, landing him unexpectedly in front of a much taller man, that suddenly reprimanded the young noble for his poor manners, sparking a whole onset of village-folk spitting their dissatisfaction with Mu in Solo’s general direction. Before anyone had even said a negative word, his innocent curiosity had already given way, replaced by a confused panic, that he fought to entirely conceal. Up to that point, he’d never personally encountered a crowd that would so readily turn on him; that would band together like this.

“You always get more than we could ever dream to ask for! Yet you have the nerve to want the best that we have!”

“You claim Mu is our security!? You threaten us with the very same power and weapons you claim to protect us with!”

“Do you even remember the villages that were burned for the sake of cooperation with Mu!? Or is that just another necessary sacrifice to you!?”

“The powers of Mu are unnatural! - This world would be better off without your kind, you monsters!”

Mu’s very recent exercise of dominance through displays of great destructive power across the world was likely to blame for igniting the sudden hostility. Offerings made to Mu that were once given out of love and hope of blessing, were now bribes for mere survival or an advantage over other tribes.

None took too kindly to being viewed as tools by much of the higher Murian caste. Some were bursting at the seams to make those feelings clear; viewing this moment as an opportunity to do so; to make a demonstration of one of Mu’s supposedly treasured individuals.

The now quite unpopular noble, snapped a reply,

“Isn’t that how the world works? - Those with power, get to make the rules! They can take what they want!”

Yet somehow, speaking only made him look more foolish to the crowd.

The fuss continued, yet fell into the background of Solo’s mind as an almost sly-looking young man, came within arm’s reach of the lone Murian, and with him, a few others trickled in to form a feisty-looking circle around their flustered visitor. Solo’s first instinct was to tuck his chin into the high teal turtleneck of his uniform, wishing he could just hide within an impenetrable shell, like some kind of turtle. Goading him on, the other young man questioned,

“So you think you can just do what you want huh?”

Without a second thought, Solo snapped back,

“Yes, I’ll do as I please.”

The other young man, keeping his smug cool, continued as though setting up some kind of hostile joke,

“Oh yeah, and what makes you so special?”

The Mu noble spewed whatever came to mind first, everything he said was going to be used against him at this point; but loosing his temper made it impossible to keep his mouth shut.

“The blood of Mu that courses through my veins!”

Swiftly came the interrogator's searing punchline,

“Mhm, and if that’s so valuable, maybe spilling it on the streets will finally pay for all the food and labor you’ve taken from my people!”

“Now tell me Mu child - If you really can see more than us with those unearthly eyes. Can you see this?”

Solo indignantly glanced around with puzzled frustration. But a mere second later the young man’s fist made a hard landing across the noble kid’s face. Enraged shock filled every ounce of Solo’s being, as he finally let out a sharp shout; though almost swallowing his own breath in the process,

“GAAAHH, I-I could take any of you on!”

The prompt response of the crowd was by no means reassuring for the loner in its middle. Someone interjected from behind,

“Shut up! Maybe you could. But not all of us together!”

With that, Solo felt his legs kicked out from behind. Others worked to keep him on the ground. As a soft faced wiry kid, Solo was tough, but against the gang surrounding him, he seemed more akin to a small bird surrounded by lions. They were rugged and strong, they knew they were always lifting more than their share of weight in this world.

The young Murian wasn’t ready for this; he wasn’t ready to just EM Wave change on a whim. Let alone, in the midst of such confusion. But enraged by the insults of the crowd, he used all his strength to prop himself back up with his arms, just to look them in the eyes.

“I’ll hunt you down! …I’ll-I’ll make you know what it really means to suffer!”

At that, they only beat him harder. Face to the bricks, Solo froze up completely, and by the time three thunderous shouts from the other Mu officials broke up the crowd, their child of Mu was already in a limp haze.

Solo hadn’t known true fear or suffering before this. It was his first taste; his first bite, and it made his stomach sick. No one had so much as asked him to think over the fate of the peoples that might’ve opposed Mu. The mere thought of opposing Mu was a pill so foreign, nothing could make him swallow it; they must have been enemies…

As the first of multiple incidents following a similar theme, Solo grew to immensely despise crowds.

Though word spread of decimated villages who opposed Mu’s total reign, many continued to view those of Mu as auspicious, brushing other tribe’s grievances off as rumors, or unconcerning to those that remained loyal to their empire.

However, Solo never got over the feeling that others could turn on him at any moment should Mu fail to ensure they felt blessed with fortunate harvests or secure infrastructure; or for that matter, any reason they wanted. Trusting others became an only barely surpassable obstacle for him.

… The reign of his people lasted only a mere three years after.