The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle

[beleos]

RUNNING OUT THE CLOCK

The situation is bleak.

The Blight - and the massive labyrinth of roots tearing both cities asunder, spreading deadly flowers wherever they penetrate - have progressed to a point beyond catastrophe. People are dying in rapid numbers. Bearers are having difficulty keeping up with the spread of infection - even among one another. The collapse of Kenos seems inevitable; a cure will not come in time. You can do nothing but watch as each new day brings further disaster, ticking down the seconds until it all falls apart.

And then, you feel something seize your Shard. As if physical fingers have wrapped around it, as if it is being clutched through you by invisible hands, you feel invaded. You feel wronged. But before you can panic, a voice enters your mind through Communion.

“Excuse the dramatics, but there isn’t much time for pleasantries. The Trees are about to hit the point of no return. But there's still work to be done. The Tree of Life will take you where you can find it: the Oracle and the creature causing all this mess. Fix this when you find them. However you'd like.”

Have you heard Aetos’ voice before? Perhaps it is the first time; perhaps it is familiar to you. Either way, the last thing you will remember is a confusing jumble: a spell of immense and incredible power, one utilizing the Tree’s strength to shelter you. The sensation of every cell in your body coming alive, yet seeming to break apart and render you into billions and billions of tiny pieces, all hovering in different times and places across all the different iterations, timelines, and realities in which you have ever existed. A voice that speaks not through words asking your forgiveness, unspeakably sad.

And then, there is nothing.

AWAKENING

Your eyes open, gritty with the feeling of a long, deep slumber.

Perhaps it takes a moment to shake off the heavy veil of exhaustion, to recollect what you were doing before you fell into this state of hibernation - but as soon as you do, you feel an immediate sense of foreboding around you. It is thick in the air, oppressive and pervasive, and you aren’t left long to wonder at its source. You lay beneath the branches of the Tree of Life, but as your bleary eyes focus… you see it. The Tree is all but bereft of life. Its bark has withered down to gnarled wood, the soft lichen dried up, and the grass that should be alive beneath you is long dead and gone. There is not so much as a single leaf on its decaying branches.

It has been this way for a long, long time... you realize this with a feeling of intense dread as you see it - the beautiful expanse of stars, of the cosmos, of universes scattered like starlight above the tree's boughs, gone. In its place hangs a sickly, ominously low-hanging, and dying sun ready to sing the end of everything.

You can't help but wonder how long Kenos has been in this state, but a sense of gratitude fills you as you realize that the Tree expended the last of its energies to protect you, the Bearers, during your state of rest. Had Aetos worked with the tree to see you sent here?

The next question comes quickly: how much time do you have left…? And can you find the Oracle before that time expires?

ABANDON HOPE (DAYS 1 & 2)

The cornerstones are still active and will take you to whichever city you wish to see.

Highstorm and Springstar sit like empty monuments to the cities that were once filled with life - yet the first thing you will notice is they are strangely absent the signs of the Tree’s overgrown roots, the Blight, the catastrophic damage that you can recall all too easily. Instead, each city sits as those they were summarily abandoned overnight, leaving nothing but their shells behind. There is a stillness in the air that is unnatural and unsettling. Despite the lack of any sign of the citizens of either city, you cannot help but feel… watched.

Something terrible happened here. Best you find the Oracle before something terrible finds you, instead.

The burning of a dying sun beats down on you wherever you go, unbearable heat sending waves off the aged cobblestone streets. Perhaps it is your instinct to seek refuge in the shade - but linger too long about the shadows and that feeling of eyes on your back, of being unable to breathe, of your world closing in around you will grow untenable and drive you back into the light. If you hope to explore the ghostly shell of your city in search of the Oracle - or to sate your curiosity, some problem-solving might be in order.

And while you acclimate yourself to your circumstances, you cannot help but note you feel wrong inside, somehow…

EXPLORATION

• If your characters choose to explore previously unreachable areas, please use THIS TOPLEVEL to report when they get there in the thread! We will get back to you with what is discoverable in that location.
• The following areas are off limits for exploration: below Yima’s Manor; below the Church of Heliopolis; Alenroux; Kowloon.
• The Great Trees of both Highstorm and Springstar are in a similar state to the Tree of Life and will not respond to Communion.
• Generally speaking, items will be of poor quality. Most will look as though they’ve aged thousands of years. Others will be in half-decent shape, but sparingly so. Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem like the whole city has aged at the same rate, so especially diligent rummagers can find worthwhile supplies. Please consider this should be rare and don’t go overboard!

NOTES

Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!

• Characters will have a diluted connection to the Zenith or Meridian.
• There will be periods powers are weakened or non-functional during days 1-2 (up to player discretion).
• The sunlight results in scorching; the shadows cause claustrophobia and fear while outdoors.

THE RITUAL (DAYS 2+)

The place you started your journey to Kenos is also where it seems it will end. As soon as the first Bearer makes contact with the Iconoclast effigy, you are collectively drawn to the roots beneath the Tree - like a pang sent through your Shard. Your objective has been found. The Oracle awaits.

Trusting Aetos seems like a fool's errand, but you must put your hope in the Tree. What choice do you have left? It's time to find what lies at the end of this.

Bearers descend, your steps echoing in the dark, cavernous space. Once brimming with life and vitality, the roots are now dried and brittle like the bones of some ancient leviathan that died long ago. As you make their way deeper into the earth, the deadened roots twist, leading you to a vast chamber deep within it; the air here is thick with the smell of decay, and the faint glow of luminescent fungi and mosses barely illuminates the space.

To your left, the Bearers will notice what has drawn them here - and the object of their search.

An effigy sits on the ground between two darkened tunnels. The effigy is made of gnarled, dead branches woven together in a humanoid shape; its hollow, empty eyes are sightless, yet you cannot help but feel it is watching your every move. Branded on its forehead is the Iconoclast symbol carved into the rough wood.

Once all Bearers are present, the Ritual will begin. Your means of exit have been sealed off, and you are trapped, slowly deteriorating together…

NOTES

• Bearers will have access to the Ritual Chamber which is a very wide, open space with the effigy situated against the far wall from the entrance. Several smaller tunnels off-shoot from the Ritual Chamber. They all run to dead ends; some are very small or narrow. This may afford you meager privacy away from the group.
• Once a Bearer steps into the Chamber, they can no longer head back out the way they came. They’ll find themselves automatically walking back into the Chamber as if of their own volition.
• For brevity’s sake we won’t list them out again here, but the complete description of effects Bearers will experience days 2+ is available in the OOC Summary.
• The effigy is impervious to damage.
• It Is Watching You.
• In a dead-end root tunnel attached to the Iconoclast’s Chamber is the Blighted statue of an Otter that may be familiar to some… Please see THIS TOPLEVEL for more information!

THE PURGE (DAYS 5+)

The sap has festered in your veins for what feels like days. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed; this place has no sunlight. The effigy watches as you remain trapped, huddled together around it, unable to leave as you find yourself sick with the affliction of the Meridian, Zenith - or both.

And then… something finally gives.

Though it does not move and speaks no words, you feel the effigy offering you guidance. Knowledge. Much like the Tree speaks to you in impressions and feelings, you are conveyed wisdom you did not have before: a way to take what you want and rid yourself of what you do not. A way to make your convictions known to all who would hear them. A way to be known. To write your path in blood, be it yours… or theirs.

When all is said and done, only one force - Zenith or Meridian - will gain its favor.

Show it who you are. Show it what resolve looks like to you - and what you are willing to do to attain it.

NOTES

Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!

• You can Purge your alignment through various methods: Trading, Corrupting, or using the Effigy itself.
• All characters will understand the end goal is for everyone to Harmonize; the alignment with the higher rate of Harmonized Bearers alive when time’s up wins the Oracle’s favor.

NOTES

• A reminder that the Harmonization tally will take place on Friday, the 19th and be open through Monday, the 29th. The results will be released on Wednesday, the 31st OOCly.
• Don’t forget to submit any deaths to the Death Tracker, with a gentle reminder characters will remain dead until the event conclusion!
• Reminder to fill out the SETTING POLL ASAP if you haven't already!
• Have some MUSIC if you'd like. LYRICS here!
• HAVE FUN!!

CODING

Comments

[cutlery]

[ Liem’s instincts are sharp, and they’re not wrong. When Liem doesn’t dismiss him, Sebastian draws closer to come take a seat near Liem. He’s still not crowding or intruding, perfectly polite as he settles himself in, but it’s more of an act this time around than their previous cordial conversations. He’s never needed or wanted anything in particular from Liem before, though. ]

Ah— I heard a bit about that.

[ He had never gotten a full account of everything that had happened in Horos, actually. He had at least gotten the “high” points, but most of his interest at first had been how people had arrived. So, the first group had been interesting and something he had wanted to learn more about, but… It had also quickly become irrelevant. The mysteries of Horos were left behind for yet another world, and the further apart the two get, the more he feels that they truly have little overlap.

But from what he had heard about that first arrival, well. He couldn’t disagree, really. ]

I suppose we have had it a bit easy in Kenos… [ He trails off, but there’s a little joke in his tone. It hasn’t all been easy here, but definitely compared to his one month in Horos, it was largely a breeze. ] Though this does feel like a test of convictions, I will admit. To be touched by the other side’s energy is… Troubling, I shall admit.

[ He cants his head lightly, trying to catch Liem’s gaze and pull it away from that knife and to him instead. ]

I admit, I was a bit surprised when you chose Meridian, if only because I came to know you from Kenoma.

[affal]

( he can think that for himself, but he would be wrong. perhaps when it comes to the Iconoclast Oracle's ordeal, forcing them to do away with their restless indecision and make a choice in the Shard-Bearers' conflict for eternity, dextera might not be able to offer him very much help in figuring out which decision will cause him the least amount of suffering in the long run. but this is still the person who rescued him from these terrible caverns, who has put him up in his own lodgings and kept a wary, concerned eye over him in the ensuing weeks. having never received it, makoto doesn't understand any type of care, affection, or love that is unconditional. a part of him is watchful for the other shoe to drop, convinced that there's some volume in their shared history that he doesn't remember which explains what dextera expects from him in return.

until then, though... he is willing to take for a mile what dextera is willing to give him for an inch (or so he perceives it). with some effort, he pulls himself away from where he had been reclining, sitting cross-legged before the other young man.

his gaze falls, eyelids heavy, at the truth that his friend brings him. he knows. it's either choice, or death. there is no other escape from this place, and the others are already growing violent in their desperation. he frowns. )

Some of it is just me being petulant... I'm aware of that. ( it's a less-than-attractive characteristic of his he has learned to accept with all of the others. ) But there is a part of it that feels... instinctual. I reject both because, ( his mouth presses into a thin line, and he ventures cautiously, aware of the disparity between their level of memory for horos, ) it was something like this that robbed me of so much of myself before, wasn't it?

( he can't remember the distinction between the kenoma and the Regent, where it had and hadn't existed. to him, it all feels like the same; a low, ominous dread that promised to take the one last thing he had to be stolen. )

And, beyond that, I have no personal stake in what happens to our worlds. Lacking that... if I'm forced to choose, I don't know what the right choice is, even if it is only temporary. I'm given so few opportunities like this... I don't want to waste it. ( he breathes out a small, soft sigh. ) I don't know which will benefit me most in the long run. I've tried asking, but... ( mixed to negative results. )

[affal]

( makoto becomes dimly aware of someone approaching a few seconds too late; his chin raises to permit his odd, colorless gaze to peer from the fringe of dark hair that has fallen over his eyes. he doesn't recognize gamora, but that's not any real surprise — there are very few in this cavern he would recognize from his time in kenos prior to being gathered like this, even though there are many more that would recognize him from the place they had been before. though perhaps what he finds more immediately of note than her is what she carries: a knife, at first held at the ready, now falling to her side, inert but still carrying the potential and promise of violence.

the demon's eyes slowly return back up to her own, and he smiles, irritatingly blithe. )

And here I thought you were about to make things interesting.

( hidden on his person he has a blade of his own, even if it was half-way a relic that he had found in the ruins that they had wandered, searching for shelter or answers, before being brought here. if she had actually planned on using it, those within eye- and earshot of them might have been privy to some sort of show.

his narrow chest rises with a deep breath that he lets out as a sigh. he leans forward to rest his chin on an upturned palm. )

I only find it amusing because, if its intent was to break me, it's barking up the very wrong tree.

( that's just Meridian, though. not all of them have many fond memories to torment them, dreams of home and all that they had left unfinished and all of the loved ones they would never see again. each progressive world makoto had found his way into has been a cage; they were just different shapes, different sizes. this one is proving to be no different.

still, he shrugs. ) But, I must apologize. I meant no offense. ( he can see how drawn her expression is; she is cautious, and he respects that about her, but he gets the sense that she is just as tired as any of them. having someone (something?) like him laughing about the situation likely didn't help. )

[vapour]

[ resourceful is one way to put it, but all Childe sees in himself is the experience of being a human that once had no ability to protect himself before acquiring some ungodly and insane powers at his beck and call. So while he gets it's supposed to be praise (and he smiles almost politely in response)—he's popped in the nose and loses his train of thought. Ow.

(For Tartaglia, this is a great honor, but as a mortal himself that has so much to prove to the world around him, especially to gods of war, apparently, there is something a little unfortunate about it. He can't strive to go toe to toe with a god in mentality. A god does not understand being weak and have a need to prove that they are anything but weak. Even reduced to something mortal and without a fraction of their divine abilities, they fundamentally understand that their condition is not a result of their fragile existence. It may be frustrating or a hindrance or even a far bigger disadvantage to them than a normal human, but there is no emotional turmoil on self-worth.

Not only does Set have some respect of Childe's beyond the fact he's a powerful opponent, his brutal honesty of the Meridian makes both him and it terribly appealing. Afterall, Childe hates nothing more than those that insist something is good or bad when it is clearly neither. Bad violates basic rights, inflicts pain and suffering for purely selfish reasons that better no one but the evil itself. Good is the complete opposite.

It's impossible for Meridian and Zenith to be labeled in such a manner, almost especially when compared to one another as opposites. the reality is that neither force exemplifies one while that other fails without gross ignorance of laid out clear facts. The only good and evil is in the people themselves that choose to represent the sides.

It's unfortunate just how many people embody evil traits while believing themselves good and condemning others. That is, Childe supposed, the true flaw of "humanity" in all of them.)

The Meridian warmth hits in a different way than anything else, both by its deliverer and the force itself catering specifically to someone who lacks the ability to believe in things such as good and evil as anything beyond labels that mean nothing unless all follow the same established principles.

the idea of surviving at all costs runs true through Childe, even though he well knows and has seen things far worse than death. Survival at all cost is the cruelest of the two, and arguably harder. Yet, moving on at all cost as Zenith does is technically survival at all cost in a way as well: it's to not be tied up in the past and anchored to stubborn ways and hopeless ideals that fail to be achievable. Two vastly different manifestations of a very similar trait according to each doctrine. Meridian is truly full optimism, but it is not hope. Zenith is neither pessimism nor despair, but it is realism.

For the optimist, however, realism doesn't technically exist. Anything less than happiness is not optimistic enough and falls short of anything but being looked back on as pessimism. This is the nature of extremes and while that is a Meridian extreme, Zenith has their own where Merriam instead falls into more realistic and moderate territory.

maybe for sometime like Childe, who only knows chaos and not how to be a good person , both sides are balanced between each other almost infuriating so. ]

Resourceful... heh, It's all about how badly you don't want to die, I guess. [ he snorts as he intentionally clears his nostrils of any blood from the hit as he brings his leg back to the ground. Immediately following, w drops the knife from his caught hand, and will either let it fall to the ground or force himself to contort with agile enough reflexives that he can grab the knife with his other hand and jam it upward, looking for just about any place he can possibly sink into flash that isn't his own.

Right now, he only cares about getting loose from Set's hold. He has no real idea how strong physically the other is even without his powers and isn't willing to take chances since he himself is still pretty fragile without Harmonization. A kick and one hit to the face just isn't enough data.

( Should Set go for the knife when Childe drops it, however, he'll instead forfeit it in favor of a chance to try and knee the other in the face in order to get him to let go of him that way. )]

My master made sure the first thing I learned was that blunt force isn't any less deadly simply because it doesn't make as big of an initial mess as a sharp object.

[ (it child though. Oh could it ever. )

And Skirk was of the Abyss that possessed her strength similar to a god, or at least easily similar to a human child being taught to become a paragon warrior without having any innate superhuman abilities or initial talent alone. Afterall, he didn't acquire his Vision or his Abyssal powers until later, and his Delusion until much later than that. ]

[hyperpotamous]

No doubt.

[ the fate of worlds and all that; he understands, even if it's purely personal feelings that he struggled with. his enemies die whether he does it himself or the world just ends in Oblivion without him, but he knows some people get a little touchy about this sort of thing. ]

But we are truly all in this together, are we not? Helping each other to the outcomes we desire benefits everyone in the end.

[ that's what he was doing with quetzalcoatl and voryn — helping!! ]

Have you considered that you might feel that way for a reason? Meridian is an easy choice. Of course, anyone would want to go home, especially if there's unfinished business and too many memories. [ he waves a hand dismissively because so many innumerable memories are unpleasant. ] That's natural. It's the only world we've ever known outside of this place. But how often does anyone ever get a shot at starting over?

[ that part really appealed to the tiny part of john that just wants to put it behind him once and for all and wash his hands of everything despite the intensity of his self-loathing reminding him that he doesn't deserve to. ]

[hauntedking]

[ In another time and place, Dimitri would be able to sympathize. He understands that bone-deep weary feeling, that urge to just give up. To want to walk away from everything, the wish to not be responsible any longer. If they weren't under pressure, if he weren't already half-blinded by anger, then... maybe they could have had a conversation about it.

But they're not in that situation.

Instead there's just anger. Anger and resentment and utter despair. ]

You're sorry.

[ The words tumble out. ]

Do you really think that will make up for the lives you're snuffing out by siding with them?

[ He can't let her run, some part of his brain screams at him. She has to pay. He takes a step forward. ]

If your ideals are so flimsy, then you have no place here-!

[hauntedking]

[ Dimitri's lips twitch a little, as if he's considering saying something. There's mingled emotion there. A tangle of fatigue and desperation and a sense of wanting this to all be over. He really doesn't quite know how to move forward here. But he takes a breath. Then another. And then he nods. ]

...I am.

[ He digs into a pocket. ]

I have a knife. It... isn't very sharp. But it will do.

[ It's something old and dull, but it has enough of a point to be useful. ]

[vapour]

[ what happened?

Childe takes a deep breath and swallows, a pain in the back of his throat made worse by the action.

what happened?

the anxiety and paranoia from being in such a vulnerable position kick into a higher gear, although he still does his best to hide them. It's not really so easy, though. Ahh, shit of course Zhongli would notice so quickly. ]

I... don't know. [ maybe there's too much pride in him still to admit that Set had managed to injure him enough and then not only corner him but do... well, something. He's well aware that Set had been oversaturated with Meridian energy, but he still has no idea how he could have done anything with it. The brainwashing effect lets him be confused at best, but he's not able to distinguish that he was forcefully converted. Then again, he doesn't exactly know when he converted at all except by the time they parted ways, Childe was sick and definitely harmonized to the faction he'd been originally corrupted with even after doing multiple trades. Why did he convert? Had he had a change of heart?

Why can't he remember? It doesn't feel wrong or anything that that was done without his choice on the matter, and yet...

(No, even brainwashed he actively knows he dislikes far more Meridians than he does Zenites, but that isn't much of an open and prominent factor in him choosing a side. He also knows he isn't fond of the Tribune, but perhaps that too in his mind also doesn't matter. The only thing that he can think of with going Meridian is a promise for something thrilling, something that wouldn't chain him down like a tranquilized beast, someplace to let out his feral tendencies without being a nuisance. He views Highstorm as the more peaceful and proper of the two large cities whereas Springstar seems more loud and lively. Surely Springstar could entrance his behavior more reading than Highstorm would if he didn't control himself every step of the way.

Too bad he hasn't realized yet the Zenith has also been keeping the Abyss inside of him more at bay than normal even if discord building internally allowed it to thrive if not checked and balanced)

Still, Childe seems to act like a guiltly and confused party, something not part of his normal behavior. that alone probably is enough for Zhongli to assume whatever happened Childe was not a willing participant of and that he is unhappy that it happened anyway. ]

I'll be fine... It's not a big deal. [ no it's a huge deal and he knows it, thinking he wanted this or thinking he was forced. but it'll be fine. it has to be. what else can it be if not? A complete disaster.

(He doesn't want to die like this. He doesn't want to die.)

A shiver escapes him even as he grumbles and hugs himself tighter in absence of a blanket. His ears ache and his head continues to be clogged making it feel like it's detached from the rest of him and has him further and further dissociated to the reality about him. He hates being so weak and pathetic he hates it so much, enough that the distress is evident through communion. Childe is not just ill physically, but his mental health is deteriorating, as well, judging by the malicious feelings he has so clearly pointed at himself. The Meridian presence only seems to pulsate and flare, urging him to redirect his frustrations elsewhere. There is a war to be won here, and it has no time for free-thinking soldiers that hold standards for their appearance of strength and stability to others. Self-disclipline and self-awareness are not Meridian-aligned traits.

the Fatui Harbinger feels caged and threatened by everything around him now and it's taking every fiber of his being not to lash our. The only saving grace is he's already watched plenty of others go absolutely insane and while he normally doesn't care how he appears, in a house of madness like this, even colder would like to be one of the heads that prevail and leaves here with some ounce of sanity left. ]

[warmare]

But they didn’t create the world!

[Hayame is not a skilled orator. She has tried to convince several unharmonized shardbearers to come to Meridian, and none had. She’d had the evidence, damning evidence in the debate over Manon’s shard, and still Meridian had been forced to concede to some sort of compromise. When she tried to express how she felt in words-

She failed every time. Maybe it isn’t surprising, for a woman raised for violence and silent obedience to struggle to convince or inspire others, but-]

We are not gods! How could these oracles make us into them? Going back is one thing-

[She could believe that, conceptualize it. The power to return home where she belonged. The power to remake the universe? Jod’s shard once again becomes some sort of prop in her hand as she points angrily at Liem’s face, her own twisted in an expression of offense and rage, anything to cover that what she really felt was-]

You have gone mad, Liem Talbott. You are not yourself!

[Not the man she had followed into the light in Horos, not the one she had awkwardly tried to get to read to her from his holy book so that she might have an excuse still to spend time in his presence.]

You will surrender yourself to my custody and return to Meridian, or-

[What? The shard in her hand proves she has already killed another traitor. Will she kill him, too? She doesn’t-]

Or else I will ensure you do not contribute to a Zenith victory the only way I know how.

[consolation]

[That feels, in many ways, like a meeting that took place in both another body and another life. For a moment, she can't be sure if that was something that happened to her or to someone else, and she's simply absorbed the remnants of it like breathing smoke into her lungs. It's only in remembering the brief discomfort of the other girl's public embarrassment, the way her unnecessary, defensive ire flared, that Caren can fully remember the moment and the emotions as her own.]

Yes, [Caren says.] I suppose that was me. Creatures take after their Masters, is that it...?

[She's become, in the tangle of bodies and roots, quite vacuous. Perhaps that's the fate of someone whose soul is open to bear away the sins of others; everything culminating around them bleeds into her so easily, while her own dulled feelings pulse out of her in uncontrollable release. It's not unlike the symptoms of possession, if the whole world itself was possessed. Rin's discomfort absorbs along the surface of her skin, causing it to tighten and prickle, chilled or excited or both.]

We are both discovering that what we seek to leave behind isn't so easily unbound. [This could refer to so many things: the thoughts and feelings of other bearers; the worlds they had accepted as deleted as Zenites; or even the burdens they could have left behind in the dying cities.] Silence will only make it worse.

splooge.............

[intervener]

[ now, being propositioned by a pretty lady isn't exactly one of those things Vash would chalk up to an everyday occurrence; in fact, it happens rarely enough that it's worth noting as unusual - very unusual, even! so unusual, actually, that Vash finds himself giving a wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights stare in response to the sudden and purposeful approach of one (1) Rosaria, a woman whose face he doesn't recall as familiar except in passing.

and he is frozen stock still as if he doesn't know what to do with himself. as if he questions the validity of what his eyeballs are indeed telling him is happening at this juncture. as if he is still enough, she - like a dinosaur - might not be able to track his movements and will simply move on or--

...

well, shit.

when she grasps his sleeve and gives him a light tug combined with the 'you. I need you,' that whole dinosaur strategy goes right out the window, his bubble unceremoniously burst just like that. ]

Uh--

[ ... ]

N-not that I'm not flattered 'n all, but it's kinda... [ he ducks down a tiny bit, dropping his voice some, giving an awkward glance around the well-populated cavern, ]

...You like it when people watch or something, lady?

[wolof]

[ Akua's steps stilled, and she stopped and turned her head to look at Misa in the eye, her jaw tipped back, it was an imperious look she leveled at her, straight out of eons of Praesi Dread Emperors. The Zenith she held to her was like a cloak, fitting like a suit made of the finest silk. It truly is a shame she isn't Zenith, because it fits her. She almost snapped at Misa, but her tongue was too tightly controlled to merely lash out because Misa did.

But her eyes were sharp, and if they didn't glow in the dim light, they could have. Her lip curled slightly, and she turned toward her. ]

Am I?

[ She asked, and took a step forward, nearing her. She has no way to know that there is a brand on her, that burns. Akua had not forced her own Blight on another shard bearer, shockingly. ]

I cannot be the only one, dear heart, that has come by, but you choose to call to me? [ A smile, then. ] I do not think you feel guilt, but perhaps it weighs on you, that I did not fall to the Blight? An unfinished job, perhaps?

[wolof]

So I've noticed.

[ She said, but nodded at the offer, and sat next to him. It is odd, for her, to feel so weak, so vulnerable. Without her gift, she is left to be just a woman. Even when she had been without her magic before, she had been a shade, dead and unable to be harmed any more than before. And she had a connection to Winter, even though it was through Catherine's control.

It felt... so odd to be without her power. To feel so removed from Meridian, and closer to Zenith. She disliked it, that it still felt so tempting, even has her fingers found the bronze bracelet at her wrist, and she twisted it. A reminder that there was a reason she was Meridian, even though every part of her would have taken Zenith, had she been just... mere days younger. ]

You struggle with it too? I don't think I ever knew what side you had chosen, before. Other than your... rebels. Who plagues you now?

1/2

[intervener]

[ he's good and riled her up, hasn't he? Communion betrays the ripple of amusement that seems in stark contrast with the irritation writ on his face; Vash outwardly portrays a man who is poutily putting up with this manhandling as if on the brink of petty retaliation, but internally,

he's kind of like a dog wagging his tail. hehe.

hehehe, ]

[intervener]

[ but it isn't ire he wants to invoke in his company (well, not entirely). sure, he's being a little shit and all, but... he can tell that she's having difficulty - everyone is. the cavern around them is filled with a constant ebb and flow of feelings and miserable sensations of just about every possible flavor. anguish; loss; grief; hatred; rage; sorrow; longing; fear; pain. take your pick, and you'll find it.

...this is just a distraction. not the best one, maybe, but hey; Vash's only got what he's got, and the tricks up his sleeve might not be perfect, but beggars can't be choosers, alright? ]

You trying to hurt my feelings? What do you mean we're not friends...? That's not nice to go and say to someone trying to cheer you up, you know?

[sterngaze]

[Liem listens attentively, courteously, as John answers his question. Unlike his companion, he is not afflicted with any particular compulsion to know the answers to what he asks, but he is curious about why this man, who seems ordinary in appearance and ability, would feel such guilt over the prospect of bringing back his world. He is curious what experiences would lead him so firmly to the promise of Creation's demise, when Liem had to be dragged there kicking and screaming. Even now, with Zenith whispering in his ear with the voices of people he now barely remembers, he continues to turn his face steadfastly from its promises.]

Is that what it means to be Archivist?

[John hasn't explained the title in Liem's hearing, but even according to Liem's own cursory knowledge, human history is rife with tragedies — perhaps enough to demoralize one who had to chronicle them.

Then again, perhaps it is only the impetus for the request he'd made over communion that causes John to have this perspective.]

I have seen some cruelties that I would rather forget — but only with my own eyes. And it is not my job to bear witness to such things.

[wolof]

Mm, it is a common sentiment, I think. [ She agreed.

It is not so much that Akua truly believes that they can go back. There is a small shred of hope, buried in the black pit that would be called her heart, but no, she does not believe that. Not really. That was never the spark of her belief in meridian. Never could be. She smoothed her dress, and her hand clasped over a bracelet on her wrist.

Her thumb brushed against the wrought metal, thoughtfully. ]

I do not trust it either, you know. Even as one who signed onto it. It is not the promise of having what is lost that motivates me. It's the cost of what we may have to yet destroy in order to find our goals, that stays my hand.

Have you... come to terms, with what Zenith will ask you to do? To make something new?

[affal]

( in a way, set calls his feint; rather than remaining resolute or fighting for distance away from him as makoto strikes out to close it, he steps inside of his guard in a way that causes a distant, buried martial instinct (one half-forgotten, which he had learned in a place he no longer remembers) to clamor with sharp alarm. but as the god surges forward to meet him, pressing willingly into his body along the pull of his grasping arm, bent over his shorter form, it's makoto's first instinct to flee. he needs to break away, gain distance, reassess — but it slowly becomes apparent over half-seconds, bleeding through the conjoined morass of their shared Communion, that set does not do this with the intention of hurting him. instead, it is curiosity; it is the most full-fledged attempt that one can muster to know another. in this... makoto can find some understanding. this is a lesson that had been taught to him relatively early, in Hell — for all the illusions and reflections that demons can put up around their true selves in speaking to you, silvered tongues weaving the image of who they wanted you to believe they were (because your belief made it so), there are certain lies that the body cannot perfectly replicate.

in recognition of this, makoto remains where he is. it is an acknowledgment, and acceptance, and but there is still his characteristic youthful indignation still inherent in the strength of his stance.

beneath the cascading curtain of the war god's hair, makoto stares at him with narrowed eyes that glint metallic in the low light. )

He is mine. Regardless of whether or not we are apart.

( one assertion he has been able to sift from the vagueness of his memories of horos: J had been there, and he is certain he had been the one who had found him. with everything that has happened to him — to the two of them — the unfortunate byproduct that impresses itself upon the young demon is that he believes, to a certain extent, that they are destined. as soon as he had heard that it was possible to win the shards of others to this world, his restless drive had calmed, willing to see just how far he could push certain unspoken rules. if his master's shard were to be plucked from the Timestream at any time, makoto would prefer to prepare before he made a move to acquire it. it's an advantage, after all, to learn about this place and collect some more strength (regardless of what he had bitterly said earlier about power) out of his sight, all to better use against him later. )

All the stage does is arrange the rules for my assailment against him. ( there is a part of him that wants to despair, to discard the whole factor out of hand because it doesn't feel purposeful enough. but he thinks it through further, tactically. ) Were we to return to Hell, he would be restored to all of the power he's built over centuries... and I would be back to clinging to the lower rungs of the ladder, chasing after him.

( he feels determination that he could catch him, surpass him even, but he's not sure if those are delusions of grandeur or... something else. )

If I had a hand in writing the rules of engagement myself, however, with a new world... ( his words are hesitant, begrudging, ) Perhaps that would be an advantage worth investing effort in again. ( even if he's so worried it will all be for naught again.

his gaze had wandered the deeper his thoughts had gone on this, but the gentle, methodical touch at his jaw, fingertips tracing down the tender arch of his throat, cause his eerie eyes to return to set's own. they seem to glow like low embers in the dim light, as hypnotic as his decorated words; wariness creeps along makoto's spine in a protracted prickling tread, knowing full well from his time in Hell the danger of creatures like this. he is one of them. but as he speaks, he finds himself for the very first time drawn to him in kinship rather than repulsed by the disparate difference of their existences, their experiences, their placement here and in their own worlds. but it's not as though something like that is new or unexpected. makoto has learned in his second life as a demon to embrace contradiction; hatred and devotion, compassion and cruelty, desire and violence... even if they are each an inhale or an exhale, they are still the same breath, are they not? ever-so-slightly, makoto leans into him; the hand twisted in the gold hung around his neck pulls tighter, intending that, if set is to loom over him like this, he would at least have him crane into slight discomfort to do so. ) That's the first thing you've said to me that makes sense, ( he presses the words warmly into the close space, fervent, ) I am the same. To achieve my goals, I will do whatever it takes — I have done whatever it takes. ( and yet, as much sacrifice as it had taken, of his mind and his body and his dignity, he wants to make one thing clear. his eyes flash, teeth baring dangerously as he continues, ) But I will make one thing clear: I am no sacrificial lamb.

[wolof]

[ Her jaw tightened.

She had known that Amos was Zenith through and through, but to hear him say that so simply as if the Zenith in her system was something she needed, as if it were fact. That it would be so easy to simply give in, and her heart ached for how she knew that yet again she warred against her very nature because of a promise. Something that didn't matter to the dead.

How long are you going to pretend to be something you aren't, Akua? a voice whispers, something only she can hear. There is guilt, that radiates through the communion, something that she feels normally deep into her core, but she often pretended she did not feel, and yet... yet here, in this space, she feels it. Did she have the right to end all of those lives over again? To write them off?

If Calernia had been obliterated from Creation, or if the Elamael had truly been unleashed across all of creation, why is it that she is left to regret? Why is she the one who is left fighting, playing the villain when it would be so simple? It is not like she'd see Catherine's face again, feel her lips on hers again... Or feel her knife in her belly again... ]

It may.

[ She says, that age-old, weary despair in her voice, as she held out her hand to him.

She heard Catherine's chuckle, a sharp, derisive laugh in the back of her mind. I knew you were still the same, and Akua feels in that moment that she is still the same, to accept the offer. ]

[wolof]

Yes.

[ She admitted, even as she wrapped her arms around her knees, and looked at the bronze bracelet at her wrist. She sniffed, as if there's humor there. ]

Or I had, but my connection to Meridian feels as far away as my gift does.

[ It's a test. She may look wound upon herself, but her eyes are searching, body coiled. She may not be an expert in combat, but she knows enough to make a stand if needed. Her mother had spared absolutely no effort, to make sure her daughter would have been the greatest Dread Empress since Triumphant. She'd had the wealth of education that any Praesi could have asked for. So she waited for a moment, to see if the woman would lash out, or take the opportunity.

Akua Sahelian does not say things simply to say them. It is all well, and truly targeted.

After a moment, she says: ]

If they wanted to change my alignment, there are better tortures, than merely making me feel for them, or simply taking my gift away.

I find that a weakened, caged animal, often bites back, if the opportunity presents itself.

[zauneyete]

[ It's lazy, the way he gestured with a hand, as if he was talking about the weather, a sports team, or perhaps the life of someone meaningless to Silco. (Everyone.) He shook his head, as Liem spoke, the possibility of "choice". ]

Ah yes, the choice to either go back to where we came from. It's tempting to some -- you clearly.

[ It was not the despair that had affixed Silco so thoroughly, neither to the Kenoma or to Zenith. Either of them offered a possibility that Silco had so often tried to find. Vengeance. To indulge his hatred, and solidify a revenge that he so desperately craved. That he wanted more than anything, and had so often found that he was powerless to grasp in his hands. Even now, with the promise of his daughter's likely death what he returns to, he does not despair -- had not despaired -- but her shard had not been in Yima's manor when he looked, and that --

No, that was a weakness of thought. He could feel that sinister Meridian trying to poke into that hole, like shafts of light through a ruined building. He would patch them as best he could, lest Meridian find purchase. He would not allow it. ]

You understand that you would be resurrecting everything in your world, to do so, yes? Even those that could look down upon you, subjugate you, or even look upon our new forms, and call us disgusting?

I wonder how many of you in Meridian have thought of that. Of bringing back all that your worlds are.

[ Silco had, and his primary motivation had always been revenge. ]

[epiprocta]

[ He flinches violently the moment he sees that too-vivid memory of a sword, breath escaping in a sharp hiss past gritted teeth as he butts his head into the hollow of Set's throat. Distress blooms hot and jagged from the edges of his mind, bleeding into Set's memories and throwing everything into sharper relief.

Which only makes it worse when that sword is put to use. When the violence and suffering of Set's memories flood past that paper-thin membrane between their minds, beat after beat after beat, overwhelming him like a deluge. The vivid recollections of a god would be a lot to take for most humans, even ones not under duress -- already mentally strained as he is, Gen almost feels physically ill from the onslaught of memories.

There's something uncharacteristically childlike in the way he curls smaller and smaller, the hand not maintaining a death-grip on Set's tangling into his hair as he ducks his head. Even when he feels that gentle movement of Set turning his wrist, he's reluctant to raise his head at first, words practically mumbled into Set's chest. ]

... like I'd get any of that. [ His next breath glosses hot and shuddering against Set's sternum. ] 'm just human. Like I can think at the scale you gods are working at. Fuck off.

[ When he finally manages to focus his gaze enough to spot that dark band around Set's wrist, Gen stiffly untangles his hand from Set's to jerk it back. Because even if he claims not to understand what Set's talking about, he does vaguely understand the magnitude of what's at stake. (Exponentially more lives than he'd ever even interacted with back in his miserable hometown.)

But for all his petulant, anxious mumblings, there's a glimmer of reluctant understanding that cuts through this unwitting Communion of theirs. Mostly when he mutters, ]

... why's it always for other people. [ And even more when he buries his face against his knees and chokes out, ] Why's it always duty. Who gives a shit about duty.

[ He knows it for what it is, even if Set won't use the word himself.

His next breath comes ragged, edged with a low groan, as he tries but fails to curl smaller; unfortunately, there are hard limits to how much he can make himself disappear. But he does succeed in making his voice almost inaudible when he next speaks, his words low enough that they'd be incomprehensible if they weren't also leaking through Communion. ]

Of course you have someone waiting for you. You keep saying you're a god.

[ In contrast to the reluctant understanding he'd put on display earlier, the obvious jealousy as he says that last part must almost be refreshing. 'They promised they would wait for me,' Set says, and Gen wants to scream with envy if he thinks about it too hard. ]

[zauneyete]

No.

[ He lies. The possibility of giving up that weak spot to someone he considered an enemy -- and he had no doubts that she would try to make good on the promise of taking his hand if he wasn't careful -- she had no right to know about his weaknesses, the things that Silco would have given up anything for, even his connection to Zenith, if he didn't have the reassurance that she had already harmonized once.

What if it wasn't me? What if Aetós is lying, and he has me? and that was a possibility whispered in his ear that made his hackles rise, and his jaw clench in his mouth. ]

Your Sunlight -- [ She'd said she was once the sun. Typical. The topsiders would have loved her ] -- burns like a rash. I'm from Underground, do you think I enjoy the bright of light or the warmth of this on my face?

[ A smirk, then. ] I hate it.

[ Just like everything, really. All this time in the sun made someone weak, whether it was metaphorical or not. He greatly disliked the promise of it, the way it beat down on him like this. ]

Just like I'm sure that feeling like your brother's... element, as it were, likely feels like you're being drug into the undertow, doesn't it? Like it's trying to swallow you?

[ He could hope, that she struggles, hates it too, though he suspects that she would embrace it happily, just to try and bring some of her light to Zenith. He hates the thought. ]

[zauneyete]

Oh, shall we?

[ That Dextera pettily continues to use Communion gets a sense in the shared connection of annoyance, though none of it shows in Silco's voice. He's controlled, even still, but it's easier if he isn't being challenged, or losing control. Mentioning his hot-spots always forces him to lose control, but in this moment, he's still relatively got it on lock.

He gestured, for Dextera to take the lead. ]

Very well. Perhaps if we bring it back together to a gathering of Meridian, my contribution will be more trustworthy, hm?

[eyesite]

Right, then.

( as far as john is concerned, that settles it.

he studies the knife; what dimitri says of it is accurate, but it's probably for the best. they don't need weapons that can do actual damage to one another (it's bad enough that some are quickly becoming ready enough to use their own hands to do the job). )

All it needs to do is draw blood. ( a beat. ) Do you want to go first?

( it's not his first time performing this ritual. first, a wound deep enough to force the sap-like blood from them. then, they apply it to their shards. it's not complicated, but... what ensues during and afterward is the part he finds himself preparing himself for. )