He was standing on a pile of brain mush that was clearly no longer in physical terms anyway supporting whatever passed for consciousness, in terms of the mental setup of these demon-things that thankfully, all of them, now were dead.

“Pry.”

He looked at her. Thick brunette hair tied back in some kind of female arrangement, eyes suffused with intelligence, recognition... and humour. All of these things focused, in a fashion that was almost intimidating, on him.

“Pry.” She said again and laughed. Then – perhaps due to his reaction or lack of one – confronting a thought not altogether pleasant, “Say something.”

Hesitantly, “You said a word that –”

“Let's go back inside,” said the other woman, dragging the kids with her, openly curious about the exchange taking place, next to crushed demon corpses.

“I'm saying your name to you, which is Pry. Which is Pry-Boak. Which is Pry-Boak [cL^YoP] – but that's a form of rank, or categorisation that I don't think means anything any more given...” she indicated the corpses; but this seemed to signify, even – something rather larger than just the pulpy mess at their feet, “It's your name. Pry-Boak.”

“Some of those kids had one eyes.”

She stared at him. “Did you... hear the word I just said.” The rank?

“You obviously know me – or you are positing that anyway, and you said – a word – that is apparently – you say it's my name.” He put it like this but he had no doubt concerning the veracity of this woman. He immediately trusted her. – He knew her. Emotionally he knew her. He felt that. – He knew her in a way that could even be indicative of something connected to the idea of destiny. But maybe you always felt that way when you saw a stranger who was also a pretty woman.

“Very good, Pry. You're a Cyclops. I said [cL^YoP] – it's a pretty similar word relating to a paradigm – that it seems kind of obvious now no longer exists; given the fact of,” – she indicated where they were standing, again; but even the ruined plain, below, and the corpses, “This used to be a lot more pleasant. And you see that.” She pointed upward at a sky that was... it was like a thing looking down that hated you. Fully aware of you. And hating you. There was light from somewhere that – but that sky was red. – “You've got one Eye.”

“I doubt that –” but as his fingers carefully traced the outlines of – the eye was rather higher than he might have thought, in the middle of his forehead, obviously extremely large, and there was the fact that there was only one. Of them.

He sat on his arse, more like fell – but it was too near the disgusting pulped up demon corpses; so he immediately got up again.

“Come on.”

She led him, seeing that he clearly would like a place to sit and collect himself, somewhere else. Literally collect himself, that was. He'd like to know who he was. And wasn't there something about Cyclops, that was, deeply, and strangely, but maybe this was – no way of categorising what was or was not – obvious – mysterious.

He thought she'd lead him inside, but they actually apparently were heading down the hill.