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

[sharmat]

(unexpected is the piercing of quetzalcoatl's tongue by her own hand. he mirrors john's surprise almost exactly, not uncertain or put off but impressed by her dedication and her lack of reaction. by choosing to risk the muscle's swelling to perform her duty, she has made a sacrifice that voryn readily honours with a bow of his head.

uttered nahuatl provides an ancient backdrop for their bloodletting. voryn watches john cut himself as the third and last addition, approving of their obedience with a small smile.)

I would like that very much.

(friends in low places.)

... It is now that I would introduce music. I am without Sixth House ceremonial bells, and so I shall vocalize the summoning spell. My power is gone, so it should not affect you, (says voryn, suggesting that it might in any other circumstance. there has always been power in music as perhaps one of the most ancient forms of magic. and house dagoth's song has been described as poisonous to ill-prepared listeners.) Come, this is neither stringent nor specific... we must appeal to the dead. I urge you to converse with them in the way you think is appropriate.

Join me, if you like. I encourage it.

(adrenaline acts as a numbing agent for the pain in his palm. voryn's fingers still shake, however, as he begins to hum for the effigy. immediately, what is able to be noticed is that the song is dissonant, almost off-key until it rises from the depths of his chest into a higher tone. the tension breaks for a quivering note, held, and his eyes close.)

[warmare]

[Hayame did not pry into the lives of others as a general rule- mainly because she did not like people pestering her with inane questions in turn. She is not aware of the exact nature of their relationship, because of this, but she at least had garnered that the two of them knew each other. That they were apparently from the same world. The fact that he asked, though-]

Am I wrong?

[She raises her chin as if daring him to say she was.]

Or did I miss him telling that slaver that words from the mouth of someone so despicable were not worth the air they use up?

[fishfearme]

No, you didn't. Claude didn't condemn him.

[Byleth didn't miss a beat in replying - honestly at that.]

I admit, I'm surprised he didn't. But I'm not Claude, and I genuinely don't know him that well, despite his proclamation of friendship. I can't begin to guess his thoughts.

[The Claude from his world was simply the leader of the Leicester Alliance. Byleth had never met him. This Claude knew him as a close friend and confidant, as someone who knew how to express themselves and who had grown into a real person - but in reality Byleth had barely grown at all. From their conversations, though, Byleth thought Claude was a staunch supporter for people to grasp their freedom and determine their own fate - considering how uneasy he had been when the topic of Sothis's possession had been brought up.

But at the end of the day, Byleth didn't know Claude very well. He only saw that which Claude wanted to show him, and the few times Byleth tried to dig deeper, Claude obfuscated and diverted the topic. Perhaps Claude's thoughts of equality only extended to those who were human, or human enough. Byleth didn't know, and he doubted Claude would ever tell him straight.]

[redsoil]

[ Set does not immediately answer the question asked of him — about his child being dead, entirely out of reach. He has offered his half of their trade, and now awaits Silco's end as well; they wish to control this, in the way that other things had not been controlled, as they had shed blood in ritual manner for one another and come to find a horrible connection that would bind them together.

It is not the first time, that he has heard of the name of the former world that many of the Shard-bearers had hailed from. Horos seems to have been a defining factor in many of their decisions to align with the Lady and her faction, and others had thrown their lot in with Meridian despite any lingering attachment to the Lady for saving them. An original world ruined, and the next; no wonder Zenith is so strong in some of them, Silco included. ]

Dying, but not dead? Surely there was a chance to save her, then?

[ Still, the twinge of pure loathing he feels — is it his own? is it the commingling of his and Silco's souls, the understanding brokered between them? is it simply the judgment he has rendered upon a city he only knows via a man's hateful ramblings? Seriously, fuck Piltover. Were it his own child, he would raze the city to the ground. In fact, he had. He had slaughtered boys for the crime of resembling, but not truly being his lost child. A horrific campaign, one that he would never willingly breathe a word of — unless he wished to free someone of their care and consideration for him, finitely. ]

— Silco, [ he answers with a sigh, ] if my child were dead, you know where I would be.

[ With Zenith. ]

Anubis is actually my brother's child. He stole my ability to father children, and begat the boy I raised from birth with my wife — so that I could never belong to anyone that was not him. Now, Anubis — is corrupted against me. Osiris did something, to make him forget me, hate me. My brother stole him.

[ So. Is it any wonder that he must go home? Is it any wonder, he must make Osiris pay? Surely, Silco can understand the need to rend a traitorous brother to pieces for the crimes he has committed against the self, and the child. ]

[hyperpotamous]

The domain of the gods?

[ and here is where john's experience comes into play, because, of course, no such distinction exists for him anymore. ]

Right. So, mortals take "divine" power for themselves via the Oracles, and then—... what? If you had to kill this world and every soul in it to bring back yours, are you willing to pay that price?

[ while he was with the Meridian, he had never believed that his world or any other was truly dead and gone, just cut off. framed differently and forced to consider a world that has already perished, things look very different. beliefs john has long held to be true slot neatly into everything that led him to eventually being corrupted to the other side; resurrection is much too costly, and no one should consider it lightly. ]

Would your people be happy to know what you traded for their lives? Or would you never tell them? Because you know you could never tell them, right? They would hate themselves forever. You'd be kinder to let them rest and honour their memory.

[redsoil]

[ Their trade is complete, and he ought to let go of her hands. She is Zenith now, and he is coming to recognize the strange juxtaposition of their chosen factions — their ideologies, crafted by individuals, are at war. They can never both be attained, and thus one must be a victor and the other the loser under their heel. Yet, Meridian and Zenith energy itself lends to the alleviation of Discord; the sun and the moon, the light and the dark, hope and despair are irrevocably entwined. They are needed, for the balance of all things.

Of his many domains, none was more important than his role as the god of chaos. The reason that order could exist, was because it was not a singularity — it competed, it warred, it was challenged and derived meaning from its resistance. Peace only had value, because there was war. Ergo, did Meridian and Zenith not have value because they clashed? If so, it was the Shard-bearers themselves and whomever had begun the ideological war that had corrupted and warped a perfectly balanced scale.

Jyn is Zenith. Her choice is for a different future, but as long as she holds true to contradictory thoughts and does not fall deep into zealotry, he thinks — maybe, she and Cassian will help him find out the truth of this world. And maybe that truth will prevent something like this, this cruel battle for the pleasure of some unspeaking entity ( Oracle ), from ever happening again to people who have already lost so much. ]

Yes, well. [ Her gratitude rattles him. The same sort of brutal gratitude he had felt from Cassian, when the man had given him his true name. It causes color to rise on his cheeks, and his fingers to curl a little more against hers; embarassed, or maybe ashamed, he dips his head a little and avoids her eye entirely. Though he cannot mistake the shining thing that is Jyn Erso's smile. ]

A young woman should always have the means to assail someone when they are deserving of a proper mauling.

[ you mean 'defending herself' set

set???

no he definitely means jyn ought to fucking rip someone apart FIRST ]

[zenwhoberi]

[a trade, of course, is something she's known to be a lot less simple than that. the majority of her life has operated by a complex calculus. weak organic parts of her body, traded for the stronger cybernetics; the continued persistence of her life, traded for pieces of goodness. she's taken some form of that, too, striking out on her own, trying to trade the blood on her hands for good deeds.

(trying, being the keyword. always trying.)

the irritation is snuffed out of her in a long exhale, replaced by a quiet thoughtfulness.]

Where I'm from, people don't often do favors just for the sake of generosity, but I think things can be different. [(trying, always trying; even now, she's trying to believe that.) glancing at him, she tilts her head.] You'd be in no more debt to me than anyone else here. I take the energy that's making you suffer, you take mine, and then I'll be on my way.

[redsoil]

I think, [ he whispers, to her alone. ] There is something wrong, with this world.

[ He is Savant. The Aspect burned upon him speaks of puzzle-solvers and grand detectives, of those who will mire themselves in a path and pursuit it as hounds in a hunt. Something is off about the world they find themselves in. Light and darkness ought to be in balance, co-existence; even if they war at times, it is the chaos of war that both require to elevate themselves to authority. Why then, is the ideological war that the Shard-bearers fight to suppress and deny one, over the other? ]

I will stand for Meridian, but I will not stop seeking answers. Irrefutable truth of what we are truly being asked to do may sway hearts to, or from, our cause, but I will not stand to be a blinded god leading and fighting with ignorant little morons. Above all else, I want to destroy the veil that remains cast over it. I want to expose what is obviously hidden in Springstar, the truth of Yima's origins. I want answers, and then I will take hold of those unassailable truths and make any still-ignorant buffoon choke on them.

[ She vows herself to Meridian, and that is enough for him. ]

— I, [ he breathes out, then. Akua is an Intercessor, which she described as a particular role that permits her knowledge of someone. Allows her to glean their story, the truth of them, and guide them towards the fullness of their power. ] I need to know, all that I am. Kenos has pinned me into this consciousness, but when people speak of their foreign knowledge of me, of the linear 'future' of my world... I can feel it is true. There is no alternate or parallel of me, only me. I have become student to a demon, I yield all that I am to you, villainess. Anything that I must do, I will do it.

[ He holds fast to her hand, drawing it to the center of his chest. To slide her fingers below the golden collar he wears and fit them across the unpolished surface of his Shard, just below it and above the throb of his heart. ]

I went to the warehouse, Akua.

[ which he will detail..... once i have the DEETS ]

[redsoil]

Well, make them listen!

[ Set, you are such a jock.

He steps forward, to seize at the curve of Byleth's shoulders and hold fast to him. While his mouth settles into a scowl, the heavy red of his brows knits into the most disgruntled look. 'Force' is always his go-to method, because he is a weapon above all else. A war-god who thinks in terms of conquest and submission, but is not entirely bound to physical acts of violence, when violence to the heart and mind were effective tools. Not just a god of battle, he is a god of war — and there is always a particular difference to make note of, lest one find themselves blindsided by him. ]

I do not think Kenos is not the most terrible place, either.

[ it feels like being immersed in a foreign country at times, and he has always loved to travel ]

I think it is a place where you can learn new things, meet new people and find yourself. To be able to return home stronger than ever, of head and heart, means that you will be able to make them see you for who you want to be seen as. Ashen Demon, mercenary, child of a god — who cares! You are someone with the power of choice and change. Here, and in your homeland.

[redsoil]

Well, I am not Yoko. For starters, I am a man. A man!!

[ NOT A REDHEADED WOMAN, LUCIEN!! save us all from little boys with their first Real Crush ]

Sekhmet is our god of destruction, and she hardly was able to focus on her desire to drown the world in blood long enough once we got her shxt-faced. A sorcerer of your supposed calibre ought to be able to handle some man-made god. Humans are idiots incapable of seeing beyond their short lives and greed — as if they're truly capable of surpassing gods! Hah! Now I know you are just making excuses.

[ AS IF ]

You have a responsibility to one another, Dark. You and Lucien. Even if he is a child, the fact remains that the two of you are all one another truly have that can decide what you want most — not what anyone offers you, but what you will take. I hope you are not running away from your world, as you seemed too passionate not to fight and win.

[fishfearme]

[Byleth blinked slowly at Set suddenly clutching at his shoulder, but didn't flinch or struggle - much like when Set had grabbed his jaw and held him fast, he docilely let it happen. By this point, he felt like he had nothing to fear from Set, and if he did, he wasn't afraid to bite or headbutt.]

You're saying I should be more aggressive in convincing others that I'm not an unnatural monster.

[Of course, Byleth interpreted 'aggressively convince' to mean 'be more forthcoming with saying your feelings are hurt when people call your heartless' than 'forcibly change people's minds - somehow'. Despite being a feared mercenary, despite performing his first kill when his hands had been almost too small to wrap around the hilt of his dagger, Byleth was not a violent person. He was not a jock (he was a nerd).]

Set, you're a very unique person. You're the first, aside from my father, who somehow sees the heart of me without needing to know me. But, perhaps being a god gives you more perspective than a mortal would have...

[Byleth's gaze dipped low briefly, then snapped back up. Without lead up or context, he asked:] Does this make us friends?

[epiprocta]

[ Unfortunately, Set is right. There's only one person in existence who could have asked that question, for whom Gen would have considered saying 'yes.' But that person remains asleep as a shard somewhere in the safe corners of Amos' room, silent and unreachable -- and even if they could speak, that question is just about the last thing they'd ask. 'Would you live for me,' is a question so far into the realm of the hypothetical for him that Gen can't even imagine a world in which he answers with, 'yes.'

But that's not to say some part of him doesn't ache for it.

Gen looks at Set in silence for a moment and wonders what those tears are for -- if they really are for him, like he wants to guess. He wonders if he's special at all, or if Set would extend this same invitation to anyone else just as volatile. He wonders if it would have made a difference, if Set had offered him that shelter just a little earlier, before this entire scenario chipped away at what remained of his endurance. As much as he knows, he knows the answer to all those question would have been 'no' ...

a part of him wants to believe in another place, at another time, Set could have dragged a 'yes' out of at least one of them. The blinding sunlight and endless, heady expanses of sand in the landscape of Set's mind call to him. Maybe he could have buried himself in them, were circumstances just a little different. ]

... you can wait all you want. But I won't ever be there. [ It's a testament to Set's allure that Gen's answer is frank instead of dismissive. No 'fuck off' or 'as if,' just a low exhale, not quite a wry laugh, before he dips his gaze once more. A drop of Set's blood's flecked red on the side of his thumb and he rubs absently at it, feeling it grit between his fingertips. Too bad it flakes away easily instead of leaving a stain. ] You think I'm as easy as you? Even if you did die for me, it'd mostly be to spite whoever it is you hate -- I'm not interested in being your side piece. And you want me to stay there just for you? Fuck you. Cling to someone else, instead.

[ Someone else might stand a chance, he thinks. Someone else not so rotten to the core might find their home in that shelter Set offers. It's a good offer, after all. He's almost jealous of this hypothetical recipient.

And while the settle of Zenith's chill in Gen's soul grows deeper, firmer, colder, it brings along with it a peace that had been absent before Set had said his peace. Though the core of his being is still built on exhaustion and loneliness, there's some respite to be found in pretending he'd ever stood a chance otherwise. A tiny part of him thanks Set for offering him the chance to be so delusional, and for the first time, he does think that maybe Set's talk of being a god isn't bullshit. Maybe that's why he adds, ]

But if you ever feel like dying in the end, I'll still do that for you. I'll do that much for you, so. You can find me. I'll wait for that.

[ Said as he grasps Set's hand properly. Firm but calm, no longer clawing or digging in his fingertips. Simply asking for the final push to put him where he belongs. ]

[zenwhoberi]

Likewise, Akua, [comes the immediate reply, with a softness that hasn't easily surfaced since her arrival. her smile, wry, softens some at its edges, too, halfway to something she would show a friend.

because it is, genuinely, pleasure — or, at least, as much a pleasure as anyone can find in this situation. it's enough for the last of the tension in gamora's shoulders to ease; when she exhales, they sag just visibly.]

I'm afraid I didn't have much chance to see the rest of this world before we were sent down here. [a hint of amusement tugs at her smile, and creeps back into her tone, with:] But I'm guessing these personalities would usually be easier to avoid? Something to look forward to.

[somehow, like the story, it all seems to come easily.]

[redsoil]

I still will. No matter how deep you go into this thing you need, or how far you run in search of your death— [ He runs his hand up, across the forefront of Gen's throat and into his dark hair, cradling the side of his face as he finds those equally dark, hopeless eyes. ] You will always find me there for you. Now, and in the end.

[ Gen may think this is an offer he could make to just anyone, perhaps even to another soul — someone more deserving, who could make it out of the mire he was choosing to belong to — but, there is nothing more personal to him than making such a vow directly to Minegishi Gen. In this moment, in this way.]

I did find you, though. I came to Kenos, one way or another, and I found you. Against all possibility, against all odds. And I will always find you again.

[ The dark, cool thing inside of him swells. It surges to the surface where he presses himself to Gen, points of contact like biting ice — the desert at night, with beasts howling like haunted things into the starless sky, frozen and calm and waiting. Waiting for the sun to rise again. ]

I think you are the most painful thing I have ever known, Gen. I am so grateful you exist. I truly do treasure you.

[ There is a contradiction in those words, for how could anyone find a reason to be grateful for misery and pain? For a sorrowful, angry boy who seeks oblivion to belong somewhere, and asks of Set to deliver him to that place. How can anyone treasure a moment like this? A boy like Gen?

But, he does. It is irrefutable, as Set draws their clutched hands to his mouth and clasps Gen tightly to him — exhaling, and bleeding the other half of his heart out, for him alone. And with it, he passes Zenith into him — a sound like goodbye, and anotjer sound. Faint, but true: hello. ]

Go be where you belong. Know, I will always, always think of you as mine.

[epiprocta]

[ 'You are not yourself,' Voryn says. And Gen promptly laughs -- just one brief bark of something wolfish and manic, but genuinely pleased. ]

And what do you know about me, huh?

[ He keeps his movements slow and deliberate as he slides his grip on Voryn's arm down, down, towards his wrist. With his other hand, he reaches for the hand that acts as a bar to maintain some distance between them -- talking the whole time, to keep Voryn's focus away from his movements, and instead on his words. ]

Yeah, I was with Meridian, but -- what d'you know about me other than that, hm? Other than that I could've been a useful soldier. Maybe you know I was one more pawn to move around to help protect all the worlds for people who wants to go back home. Not even a good pawn, just a pawn. -- but you don't know me other than that. And that's fine.

[ Those slow, controlled movements abruptly snap into place -- Gen grabs at Voryn's forearm to jerk it out from between them. And with one wrist in each hand, he surges forth, aiming to slam Voryn back against the wall. Not to hurt, but just to make a point as he leans in close. ]

'Cause I'm offering you a nice chance to get me out of your hair. And in return, you'll be one step closer to being back to how you're supposed to be -- the big, strong, noble Meridian leader who doesn't have to put up with bullshit like this. It's a win-win, isn't it? [ If Voryn will just give him what he wants -- that little extra push towards Zenith. ]

[zauneyete]

[ It is a fear that Silco does not voice, and one reason he is glad she is only here in shard form. A fear that if she were here for long enough, that Vander would find a way to soften her toward him, and perhaps take her from him. It's a fear that he had never known in Zaun, and he lives with it, because he has no choice but to do so. He must end Vander, and his contract with Sebastian would go a long way, but it is not quick, and patience is thin for the man at best.

There is a spike here, of a shared bond, because Silco, too, had stolen Vander's child -- really, taken her in after [a blankness -- he is used to it, not knowing what happened that night, but he is grateful he can remember stumbling on a little girl in the street, crying and screaming. He'd thought about it, ending that last thread of Vander's legacy then. He'd known the girl, who she was -- had known her parents, and seen her when she was very little -- but she'd thrown herself into his arms, and spoke of betrayal -- of being left behind --

Jinx might be strong enough to live -- but it's a chance. A thin one. ]

He gave you a son, and took him away. The power that men like him hold over us. Their ability to strike us, even now --

You want revenge on him. For taking your son. It is not enough that he is merely destroyed, it is not enough that he is just dead. You want to excise that pain from him, personally.

[ Osiris and Vander are the same, in Silco's mind. Are they truly? Are they the same man? Of course not. They are wholly different, but they are both men who betrayed them. Vander had played at being a leader, and gentle -- but there was a beast lurking in there, ready to strike at the inconvenience that was Silco -- like Osiris would manipulate and harm Set. He hissed, in anger, but he understands. Would he not do anything if Jinx only asked? ]

I do not think Jinx would live -- it would be... a marvel if she did.

[ He does not know his future. Caitlyn had told him his daughter killed him, but Enforcers had their ways with words. She had spewed lies to him when he knew his daughter was dead and it was her and Vi's machinations that had led his daughter to the bridge, where she'd taken all of the Enforcers out in the checkpoint. She'd gotten the gemstone, she'd blown them up, and now she was --

There's only the slightest thread of uncertainty, but -- ]

When this is all done, and when Zenith is victorious, I won't live to see it. I know this. But I will make sure that they are left with my daughter in their wake. She was here, Set, before the tree, or Yima, or the universe took her, I don't care who.

[ He blames them all, his tone says, the shared empathy between them screams. He blames the universe for destroying Zaun, for taking his daughter away. He would not forgive any of them, but they don't need his forgiveness to die. ]

But I have her shard, and -- Jinx is perfect, and she would raise chaos on their perfect world and leave destruction in her wake. They will never be free of the stain that we've left on their new world. There will always be chaos, destruction, and strength, no matter how they try to keep safe their little... [ A sneer. ] reunited families.

[epiprocta]

[ Even if these circumstances weren't eroding the wall between their minds to a paper-thin veil, Dextera would have felt the way that Gen's very core shivers at that offer. But here and now, with their minds practically made one between Communion and their shared Aspect, Dextera must feel the way Gen immediately, viscerally, painfully aches for what Dextera offers him.

But only for one moment before he claws back that own desire of his. Pushes it back down to the deepest, coldest, darkest corner he can, then locks it into place. ]

... even if I get in your way?

[ It's part deflection when he turns that question back on Dextera, but it's also partly out of the genuine desire to know the depths of Dextera's devotion to his cause. Reiji would have buckled at this point, he thinks. Reiji, too spineless and warped, would have long given in. But maybe Dextera will be different. (He's not sure whether he's hoping for or against it.) ]

What if I'm just a hindrance to your job? What if I make that duty of yours harder? What if you can't save your world if I go with you? -- would you still be asking me that?

[zauneyete]

[ There is nothing shameful in a hug the man says, as if that is the issue. Silco's fingers itch to wrench away from the man, but he knows that the longer he puts it off, the longer he can feel that too-stiff sap within him, trying to form and shape him into the Shape that Meridian finds palatable. They want him, because he is a Zenite. They want him because he is opposed to them in every way, and he cannot suffer it for any longer than he will be forced to. He hates it, he wants to be free of it.

So he holds Voryn's hand, but does not slide to embrace him. He has done things he finds detestable in his life before, and has suffered through them. He will do so now. He even followed him with little complaint, though the sour look on his face made it clear -- he finds Voryn's desperate pleading for a hug pathetic --

'You let me hug you' the voice behind him laughs, as if Silco is being ridiculous. 'If you let him in, then you could bring me back' it keeps talking, the voice, and Silco's shoulders tighten, as he closed a single eye to ward off the sounds of his daughter's voice, begging him to come back to her -- to a world where she was dying.

He focused on Voryn, instead -- who could likely feel Silco's agitation, with this increase in communion, he was never adept at controlling it -- and he focused his unblinking eye on the man, ever open staring out with a contemptuous desire, even now, to destroy it. ]

My greatest purpose? [ he asked, and behind him, there's a cheery: 'Me!' that Voryn cannot hear, but Silco can, a shadow at the edge of his unblinking sight that just never quite comes into view. ] It's to find power.

Before Horos, it was to have enough to liberate my people from the boot of the enforcers at our neck. Then it was enough power to stand strong against the forces that threatened my being. [ That Thing -- the thing that had grown so great and terrible, and had targeted Silco multiple times -- he'd hated it enough to strive to destroy it. ] Here, it will be the power that destroys everything else for the crime that it is not my world, or my people that survived.

[ That his daughter wasn't here, with them. Revenge for that as well, that she would likely find herself in this "perfect" new world, and not know that he'd made sure she would be there, instead of dying in his arms. ]

You cannot find this vague promise of resurrection that achievable, do you?

[ He asked, even as with their hands clasped, he can feel something stirring, the forces that were trying to take them starting to weaken their holds. ]

[epiprocta]

[ 'I don't remember who the hell you are,' Makoto says. If Gen hadn't already decided to leave his mark on Makoto, those words would have pushed him over the edge. But said now, when Gen's already started digging his claws in, they only spur him to knuckle down harder -- to make sure that what happens next is by his will, not Makoto's. His eyes flash bright with vicious loathing for a moment before that light vanishes, replaced by cruel determination.

(It's not even that he particularly wants Makoto to know his identity. But those words remind him too much of pale, wide eyes and a gormless stare, of an old scar buried under soft hair, of Reiji saying, 'this has nothing to do with you.' He's sick and tired of feeling like a ghost in his own life.) ]

Ah, that's right. [ His words are a languid drawl. ] Guess there's no reason you should have to remember me when you're so used to being treated like this, huh?

[ The swiftness of his movements is in sharp contrast to the dragging pace of his words. Gen shifts his grip on Makoto's clothes at the same instant that he lashes out with a hooking kick, slamming the heel of his boot into the side of Makoto's knee; a simultaneous yank at his clothes should topple him to the ground. Not that he'll get any room to scramble away or defend himself -- Gen aims to smother him with violence, lunging in before Makoto can react, aiming a hard stomp at Makoto's midriff to punctuate his words. ]

You slimy little rats are always too busy feeling sorry for yourselves when you're on the back foot, after all. [ Another stomp, though this one's aimed poorly, scuffing off Makoto's back at best. Gen's own agitation is working against him. Though -- his stiff movements are made up for escalating mental pressure as Gen continues to bear down on Makoto mentally. 'Bend,' he wills. 'Break.' ] Can't do anything unless it's all backstabbing and pretty words. Crawling around in the shadows like bugs, just waiting to bite people when they aren't looking.

[ Dirt grits underfoot when he heavily thumps down to kneel over Makoto, grabbing at his shirtfront once more. Regardless of how hard Makoto might claw or fight, he barely registers the retaliation, numb to any injuries -- he's too accustomed to valuing hatred and anger over pain. His grasp is vicious when he tangles his fingers through Makoto's hair and yanks. Forcing eye contact as he leans in to hiss, ]

The hell're you doing thinking you get to hesitate over which side you're going to? I know your type. There's nowhere else you could have gone.

[ 'You belong with me, in the dirt.' ]

also blanket content warning for cnc corruption/brainwashing...this thread has it all

[consolation]

[She might have thrown it against him, still. It's in her nature to hold the salt that burns a wound before it can heal. Finding the needles to slide under the skin to make others flinch is exciting. But here, in the heart of the dead tree that cannot revive them, to be heard by anything listening, where it wouldn't cut him to the quick of his soul and instead just make him slaver further? When she doesn't even seem pleased with herself to have done so? What she's baiting out of him doesn't seem true for either of them.]

Something that never existed in the first place, or should have.

[As he pets her head, she answers him again, though this time knowing they are on the precipice of something. Caren still responds without pretense. There are fragments of something missing, but incomplete. Elsewhere. She does not think she will find them within herself. But if Zenith is the truth, then they are lost forever.

Then he is pulling her back, giving her a kindness that is anything but gentle. The two sensations braid together, the pain and the now-familiar warmth of Meridian, which seems to be the only energy he holds now. It goes easy, like a hot knife melting something that is thawing.

Of course it is pleasurable. How could it be anything but? Her mouth falls open The first sound is a flinching gasp, but it's quickly chased by something more guttural. When she swallows any further indication of her discomfort, to bear it in silence, her throat trembles. It is impossible not to lean toward his guiding light, but she doesn't want to.]

What are you doing? Wait -

[Caren pulls her head away, resisting what's already a tight pull of his hand in her hair and making the nuisance of it morph into something crueler. Her hand finds the bare meat of his calf and clutches it, unly able to dig in her nails. Set says he will be the shelter, the shadow, but he can feel in that single push the promise to burn without asking - how very unlike him.]

[zauneyete]

Of course, because you were simply complicated siblings, instead of close, yes?

[ Silco has never had siblings for real, to have that sort of complicated relationship with. He has nothing that makes him relate to this, other than his once-friendship with a man who'd thought it was better to silence and drown him, than allow him to continue living. Better to throw away the refuse, than let it fester, he added, his own thoughts agitated and spilling out through communion. ]

Grand for you two to build something together. I'm sure it was what your world really needed -- oh, but too bad it is still gone, yes? And your brother is not here to help you remake it once again.

[ His tone is sarcastic, and perhaps a little bit mean. Even the small concession, the hint of a secret is enough that puts him on edge, defensive. He does not want Quetz to know how much about him is reflected in his time in the River Pilt. How he dreams of it -- being tugged under by cold water -- how sometimes he can feel himself stop breathing and --

He rested his chin on his fists, and tipped his head. ]

Isn't it a tragedy, when everything you worked for is just simply gone? I suppose it's not a surprise that so many refuse to let it go, and chase the promise that Meridian sells them. That you could get it back.

[ Again, with the mocking. The faux sympathy padded onto the annoyance that filled him. Silco hated them all. and the fact that they held such hope made him angrier -- and he was already angry because of all the sympathy she tried to force on him through communion. Silco, meanwhile, was the mental equivalent of swiping at it angrily like a cat being hit with a spray bottle. ]

Some of us do not even make anything, and are left with ruins left to look at. Your world is not the only one you would bring back, as... perfect as it may be.

[ Perfect, of course, sounds more like he does not believe that it is. Go figure. ]

[beleos]

Time had been unkind to this place. Its once vibrant energy is now swallowed by the weight of abandonment. Dust dances in the ethereal light that filters through shattered windows, casting ghostly shadows upon the broken remnants of machinery.

The group's eyes are drawn to a colossal contraption that dominates the warehouse's heart, a monument to engineering ingenuity long past. Its purpose remained elusive, its intricate gears frozen in perpetual stillness. A labyrinth of pipes and valves connect the machine to the world below, their surfaces aged and cracked, betraying the passage of centuries - but what is most eye-catching is that it all feeds into one enormous, massive glass tube that sinks beneath the ground. It is impossible to tell how far it reaches from their vantage point; the tube is coated with thick residue, presumably from the smoke that had once been funneled through it.

Amongst the debris of the foreman's office on the topmost floor, a stack of faded documents may catch their attention. Carefully preserved from time's cruel touch, they revealed fragments of correspondence between the Church of Helios and an individual whose name cannot be read; some faded magical interference disrupts the reader's eye, causing physical pain. The letters speak of a precarious balance, a looming deadline when demand would outpace supply - and how the city would inevitably teeter on the edge of an uncertain fate. Patches of the text are faded and unreadable, but it becomes increasingly clear that the situation was dire. The last letter reads:

"I have been forced to begin... recycling... material.

You have three months before we hit critical mass."

[beleos]

There you go! Let me know here if any of you have any follow-up questions! 🌈

[sterngaze]

[As the attachments to Liem's world flow from him into Byleth's shard — into Sothis — the noise of Meridian in his heart quiets. His thoughts settle into a soft melancholy, his mourning for what is gone blanketed with the determination of his oath to look forward, and to serve the one being that had kept him steadfast over the past century and more.

It is with gratitude that Liem withdraws his hand, presses his shard back into his heart.]

No… No, it served me very well, for a long time. I cherished that love.

[His love for his country and its people had given Liem the courage and the determination to devote himself to his church, even when the price it asked of him continued to climb. He would always hold it fondly in his heart, always miss it terribly. But now that his world was gone, he had to be realistic about how far he would go to see it returned. Perhaps it was better, in the end, to allow those who had died to rest in peace. It would be no comfort to them, but perhaps those in the new world would appreciate their sacrifice.]

It led me to my duty. But now, that which I love is gone, and my duty remains. I must see it through.

[cryomance]

[ Shouldn't it be obvious? ]

I want to get rid of it.

[ She doesn't want to cling to reminders of a world long gone and let it haunt her the same as the deaths of her parents and of those who were reduced to thievery alongside her just to live another day. It's all gone, and hope is a disease that will hamper her ability to survive in this world. It's better for her to believe and expect the worst. ]

Would you prefer to languish in indecision or have your will returned to you?

[ Having known Hayame for the short few months that she has, she knows the centaur has the same priorities. It's better to be in control than to feel helpless; to drive her own actions and decisions moving forward than to let the blight infect them further. ]