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

[cryomance]

[ The tip of her spear plunges deeper, the pressure drawing out rivulets of blood, and Rosaria watches impassively, waiting for the light to dim from Childe's pupils. She doesn't pluck her spear out until he's stopped moving and spasming, and even then, she still crouches down and checks his pulse ––no response.

Good.

The spear fades from her grip, and she waits until Childe dissipates completely, leaving his shard behind. Without the flesh, bone, and tissue surrounding it, it appears rather fragile, as though she could easily grind it to powder beneath her boot. Temptation wills her to, for a moment, if only to be rid of the Fatui-thorn in her ass, but she is a woman of her word. She also knows that Childe is someone of import to those she's actually fond of, and she'd rather not tset their ire, given how few bonds she has left in this world.

With a tired sigh, she ends up picking the shard up instead and reaching out to Zhongli via communion while hoping he's in a good enough state of mind to reply:

Come get Childe. He'll need to be re-planted. ]

[cryomance]

[ She was wrong. He is asking far too many questions, which doesn't really absolve him of being stupid (surprise, surprise). ]

I already told you this has nothing to do with sex. I need my shard cleansed. If you're unwilling, I'll find someone else.

[ There has to be a better choice out there. This one was simply the most convenient, but she now gets the impression that she's starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel in terms of trade partners among the Meridian. ]

[epiprocta]

[ For better or for worse, Byleth's guess is wrong -- in that Gen has no intention of calling him anything in particular at all. While he does file that name away somewhere at the back of his mind in case it might come in handy later, he shows no sign of it nor does he indicate any interest in reciprocating.

And while he does answer with a deadpan, ] What d'you fucking think?

[ The expression he's wearing -- brow lowered, eyes narrowed in scrutiny, lips pressed together thinly -- makes it clear that's not his main focus at the moment. ]

-- you're one of those people from weird worlds, aren't you. With how you talk. 'Stranger.' [ His voice drips with sarcasm when he imitates Byleth's inflection with that word. ] What kind of fantasy bullshit are you involved in?

[hyperpotamous]

[ john startles a little at the mention of the Sixth House and has to remind himself that it's really not that surprising that other places might also have at least six notable Houses-with-a-capital-H. it's not like he dug deep for creativity on that one. he'd built his society up from the Resurrection and in remembrance of what was lost, which is to say that in terms of useful material for appealing to the dead, he has plenty to work with.

he kneels and clasps his hands behind him, digging his thumb into the gash at his wrist, partly to staunch the bleeding and partly to keep his head clear. he has a tendency to drift as it is, and the way Communion feels right now has not helped in that area. he looks like he's ready for a firing squad more than a ritual.

john doesn't sing — he doesn't even try because he knows better — but recites each line clearly. quetzalcoatl won't be the only one to invoke herself here, at least. ]

[fireballer]

[oh thank the archons she has experience with it (be gentle rosaria it's his first time). he wants this zenith influence out as soon and as efficiently as possible and not fucking up is key to doing just that. side effects be damned he is tired of feeling this way and seeing those awful memories playing over and over in his mind.

her question makes him pause in his eagerness to get started, the questions catching him off guard but understanding why it was asked. there's not much he wishes to hide, especially at this point when mondstadt allegedly lays in ashes, but--]

What drove Kaeya and I apart... for his sake, I would like to keep that private if possible. Unless you already know, of course.

[considering the whacky ways in which this place displays their worst moments for others to observe, he wouldn't be surprised if she already did. he's not ashamed of his actions that night - he's already owned up to it to kaeya and he'll own up to it to anyone that knows - but kaeya may not want anyone else to know.]

Other than that, though, I don't care. [a little snort. considering who barbatos actually is, he would have given her that power just for fun. and drunkenly.] Is seeing into my memories one of the side effects you mentioned?

woooo we diiid it

[cryomance]

[ "More than fine" is a generous way of putting things. Rosaria is mostly trying to find a way out of this world's current demise and to take her allies with her, but she supposes things could be a lot worse. At least, she has her wits about her, which is more than she can say for others like the woman in front of her. ]

Let them fight. If you can't do the same, you're better off huddling somewhere safe until it's over.

[ Rosaria's hand is held out, beckoning the young woman closer. ]

Is fighting all you hear? No other voices?

[ How far into the Meridian has she descended, and is Rosaria too late to do anything about it? She'd seen how its influence had twisted and warped Childe into a rabid state, and she'd rather not lose any more allies to the push-and-pull of two consciousness. ]

[epiprocta]

[ He's not sure why he intervenes, to be honest. Gen's hardly the type to play hero -- not really, not any more, not since that word (hero) was polluted for him -- and people whose wellbeing he cares for are few and far between. Those he would actively step in to protect, even rarer. And that girl? That spineless, underhanded, groveling piece of shit? What does he owe her? She can get fucked for all he cares. Really.

... so maybe it's just that days of shitty conditions have rubbed his nerves raw, and he's hardly in the mood to put up with Dimitri's sanctimonious growling. Maybe it's just that the Zenith in his veins renders him too restless to sit still, now that he's Harmonized once more. Or maybe it's that hearing Ruby's pathetic, pitiful whinging reminds him of many years back when he'd still bothered to play-act as the local hero once in a while, and he decides to relive those glory (ha!) days on a whim.

Whatever the reason is -- Dimitri's lunge is interrupted by a hard piece of tree root coming hurtling through the air to bean him right in the head.

Given what it was, that projectile won't be more than enough to startle him a little, hardly enough to cause any damage. But as long as it's halted Dimitri's immediate course of action, it's done its job. If Dimitri turns around to see the source of the disturbance, he'll spot Gen standing there, leering back; days of shitty living have rendered him bedraggled, but there's a manic look to his eyes, and there's a sliver of pale teeth visible past the curve of his lips. ]

Weren't you some noble fucker? S'that really what you should be doing, huh? Cornering poor, defenseless little girls and making to ravage them, ah? [ He laughs -- a short, sharp, grating bark. Gen's stance is held low, and it's obvious that he's prepared for a fight; he doesn't dare shift his attention away from Dimitri, even when he speaks at Ruby next. ] And how'd you get yourself caught up in this bullshit? Thought you'd always manage to worm your way outta these situation with your whole innocent act.

[appeale]

[ at Akua's assertion that such a thing is the mundane unfairness of life, the Communion darkens further, thick and black as tar. although the specifics of Ruby's thoughts aren't clear through the muck, what can be understood is that she cannot be convinced; for some reason, it is fundamentally impossible to her, beyond simple belief. it is the helplessness of a trapped animal, knowing that it cannot escape. (because if it had been her first life alone, that would be one thing—but for her next to be such a perfect mirror of the same, it couldn't be coincidence. there's a cycle here that she will never be able to break no matter how many times she repeats it.)

her expression is harder to read than her thoughts: she looks at Akua with a dull, tired gaze. ]

I've never wanted revenge on anyone. I just want to live. [ it's a bleak sentiment, not born of real desire or joy for life. ] I think I must have done something wrong in a past life, or I wasn't... born good. God is punishing me for something. That's all I can think of.

[ that's what Zenith is seizing on, what her sister's voice is murmuring so sweetly about, but Rudbeckia knows better. whatever new world they create, she will live out the same wretched existence once again. she's comforted herself with the thought that she would rather suffer than die, but... ]

[hyperpotamous]

Is it, though? How long can rival factions want goals in opposition to one another and keep claiming we're all fine keeping the peace? When things get serious, you protect your own, which is why they took Alenroux in the first place. I thought it was smart.

[ john understands why everyone would want to maintain peace as long as possible, but it made him impatient anyway. that was why he'd spent so much time in alenroux; he was sure he'd have to help win this war before he'd be able to get back to his own.

interesting how things change.

he keeps the full weight of his eerie gaze fixed on liem even when he looks away, relentless. he's sure if he keeps at it, liem will see the truth. he's helping, surely; he's pulling people back from the ledge before they can make the same mistakes. ]

It's probably well within the power of the Oracles to do that without having to sacrifice anything to make it happen. The difference is in wanting to reclaim what was lost exactly as it was when you lost it. You're right; plenty of things are probably possible because you can do just about anything with enough energy, and incidentally, souls are incredibly powerful.

[appeale]

[ at times, Set may be a wildfire, a blazing sun, the heat of the desert sands so intense that it burns your feet – but in this moment, he is simply warm. Rudbeckia curls into him seeking that warmth, like a flower trying to escape the frost, like someone pulled from the depths of an icy lake. is it worse, she wonders, to have this for a moment, knowing that it won't last? once he releases her, she'll go back to the cold; and someday, when he discards her for good, she will go once again.

she doesn't want to care about such things. Set should be nothing more than a lifeline to her, a temporary means of survival. it's foolish to have hopes, or desires, or feelings at all when she knows none of them will matter in the end. but she thinks— if she could have—

Ruby flees from that budding desire, deeper into the dark. even so, she can't help clinging more fiercely to Set, the only torch she has. ]

I don't want to stay there. I'm scared of them. I know I'm not a good Meridian, but all they care about is action. Zenith demands devotion. I've been there before. [ she does not mean it in the literal sense. Set is overcome by a chill and its association with home; a feeling like walking on tip-toe over glass shards, eyes searing on the back of his neck. ] If they don't think I'm loyal, they'll...

[ a cold, dark room. the scars on her back. ]

That man—Kaeya, he'll kill me. Or Amos. And Lady Yima—wouldn't be able to love me.

[zauneyete]

[ He may have been, but Silco does not play games about what "could" have been, for if he did, would he not be stuck eternally looking back, even more than he does. Even more than he should. It haunts him, his past, but thinking about what did not happen, that was the way of futility. He was shaped by his past, it hounded and haunted, but he did not spend time on what ifs, just on what had. He does not regret accepting Sebastian's deal, save for the fact that he may never get to see his daughter again, but there was no guarantee of that regardless.

He hated more than he loved and accepting Sebastian's deal had been something he'd made while she was here --

He never had the chance to say goodbye? --

It's an uncontrolled, stray thought that Set is given, but he thinks that Set would understand this, the one regret Silco had, in that he would never tell his daughter anything again. She was gone from this realm, and he did not dare hope. Did not dare ask for her to be returned to this nightmare again. She deserved better, a world that would -- accept her, and that is the only input Silco has on this "perfect" world that he does not think will exist, and does not bank on existing.

There are too many factors, too many people. He thinks, in the end, it will simply be a world, wild and chaotic. Perhaps completely, and utterly out of control. ]

Perhaps, but there is no shame in what I have promised. Would you not do the same, if it were you in my place?

[ Osiris here, instead of Vander? Would he not have made that choice? Silco thinks that Set would see the logic in this decision. ]

As partners. We are monsters, Set, let us find the ways to grow. Aside from our conflict, that is written in stone. Zenith and Meridian will fight, and we have already pledged to fight not until the end. Let us grow more monstrous for our respective factions together, and find our battle in the end one to make the rest of them quake.

[ Silco's hand tightened on Set's now. That promise, that there was a bridged divide between them. Silco was not as touch-averse as he promised, but letting people close invited danger. By touching Set in this way, holding his hand, he said that he found that the danger was worth chancing, to find the path which they could tread together. ]

[epiprocta]

Shut up!

[ Silco's words grate at him enough to earn that vitriolic action, but here and now, when the exhaustion's chipped away his ability to bolster his anger with violence, it almost comes across as childish. Even if he lunges forward a step to snarl that response -- canine ears canted forth, teeth bared and shoulders squared -- he can't quite muster the energy it takes to be properly aggressive. ]

Convenient? Easy? What the hell d'you think you know about --

[ He doesn't even get the dignity of finishing his thought; his voice cracks before he can get those last few words out, and Gen's left doubled over against the wall coughing for a long moment. Even once he's caught his breath, his gaze isn't quite focused when he glares at Silco once more.

And while he knows, he knows better than to show any vulnerability before a man like Silco ... ]

-- I don't need any more. Meridian. [ That too-frank answer slips out before he can stop himself. Because, truly, the thought of having to put up with any more of that makes his stomach churn. Who the hell is he kidding? He's always known where he belongs, and it's not with Meridian. Gen sags more heavily against the wall as he glowers at Silco. ] ... don't think you're the one who won me over. I just know how things should be.

[appeale]

[ one moment, Rudbeckia had braced herself, wondered miserably whether death here would feel the same as her first had—and then it's as though her heart starts to beat once again, a shuddering breath escaping her. she isn't... dead. there's a ringing in her ears, so loud she can hardly understand what Gen is saying at first. Gen? of all people, not Set, not anyone who purports to be a good person and might at least rescue her out of sheer pity alone. in the moment that she most needs somebody, it's Gen who appears.

she isn't someone that has the luxury of choice. when there's a lifeline available, she has to take it, even if it's one that might burn her hands in trying to grasp it. though—first, she has to get past the lion in the room. her eyes are similarly fixed on Dimitri as she slowly, carefully, attempts to crawl towards Gen. ]

I... I'm with Zenith right now, so... [ her end of the Communion is too dark and muddied to pick out any particular feeling on that, though it certainly isn't a statement that brings her any comfort. ] I-It's not something I can avoid.

[vestments]

Tch.

( pasty white. steven remembers when they weren't pasty white, when the body — marc, because why the hell would marc ever try doing something that improved his life or made things easier? — spent actual time in actual sun, in the outside world in clothes worn not because 'people find it intimidating' (or not solely, anyway. fatigues had been a choice). their lives hadn't been any better then (before moon knight, before khonshu, before all of it, when marc was still throwing himself headfirst into denial and self-loathing but deciding to take the approach of 'well, if I'm going to be awful, I'm going to be awful and resolutely not think about any of my actions'), but at least they hadn't been suffering from a vitamin d deficiency.

but how does he navigate this conversation? marc's barely bothered to make friends (no, he hasn't bothered to make friends), and though that's nothing new, it means he'll have mentioned a net zero of any revealing details about himself other than his name (and even that's only a maybe). the comment he wants to say remains unsaid, remains a peevish, petty thought — "it's not highstorm's fault, lottie. marc just has an unreasonable aversion to being a productive member of society."

what he offers instead is a beleagured— ) —All work and no play, and all that. ( but anyway. ) How long have you been in here?

[fishfearme]

Hmm? Why do you wish to know? My world's not very exciting. I'm just a simple mercenary.

[Despite that sounding like a big fat lie to anyone vaguely familiar with Fódlan, to Byleth it was the truth: his world wasn't exciting, just full of nobles squabbling over lands or ideals that most commoners didn't particularly care about, and setting the land on fire in the process. Wasn't that just a fact of life anywhere else?

(Though, maybe he told a teensy tiny lie about being a mere 'simple mercenary'...)]

If anything, Kenos is far stranger than my land. It's decidedly lacking in pegasi and wyverns, for starters...

[warmare]

[At no point does Hayame stop hating herself for breaking down in front of someone else. If he had her shard in his hand, as she had his, that would be obvious... or perhaps it is. She can't raise her head, she can't stand to let him actually see her weeping with his eyes even though he can hear it plain as day, feel it as his shoulder grows damp. She wants to clutch at something, but she can't, it would be even weaker seeming that what she's already doing, and he-

Presses his lips to temple as if she was someone who deserved to be treated with affection and warmth, when she has tried so godsdamned hard to make herself instead into an instrument of cold revenge and unbreakable honor. Hadn't she taken the eye of the demon who had taken hers? Had she not killed the traitors to Meridian who had jeopardized their chaces at winning the Oracle? Had she not-]

Take it back--

[The words are wet with tears, but she chokes them out anyway, blindly groping for his hand to try and force his shard back into it. It's too much, to feel him at her chest so close to hers (and Liem's). She should never have asked for it in the first place. Their communions are already bleeding together, she needs him to condemn her for her weakness, nor feel him forgive it-]

Take it back...

puts a lil bow on this thread 🎀

[muchalucha]

[ She’s glad that the gesture is accepted, since with one notable exception (Vash…) everyone else has treated her affection with more trepidation. It’s fair, of course, and it only becomes more fair the more she learns of the difficult places and circumstances that so many Shard-Bearers seem to come from. How can you accept such warmth if you’ve spent so much time out in the cold, so to speak?

Yes, in lieu of her typical duties as a Servant or as a God, she thinks she’s figured out what her purpose should be here in Kenos. She may not need to be the literal sun here, but she can give her love and all of its warmth instead. The Zenites that choose to live in their moonlit city surely need it most.

So, she nods, pleased. Especially with that little fondness that she feels, but that’ll be their secret. ♥ ]

[passio]

…

[ silco carries himself like someone who belongs in dextera’s world, but everything about him makes dextera feel he’s from somewhere completely different. he can see himself running into silco in a dive through the neuro tower—someone willing to make a trade likely to benefit only one person.

inevitably, he wonders what makes silco tic. communion, maybe, has something to do with it. ]

Do you have to smoke?

[leicesters]

[She can't even look at him, so when he realises what she's trying to do, he lifts his hand to take his shard back. There's a tightness in his chest even now, though, as though her anguish has become his own, and how can he not feel for that, behave as though he has any authority to admonish her for it? She's received rejection and condemnation enough not to need more. People die in war, whether that be former allies or, in some other world, old schoolmates. Conflict doesn't discriminate when it comes to personal feelings.

Still, his hand closes around his shard, and that almost feels like a rejection on its own, even as it's a relief for him to reach for his nape and affix that golden crescent back to its proper place. He had wanted to comfort her, but he wonders if he only succeeded in making things worse, tearing open a wound she would have found easier to deal with in silence.]

I'll take it, but you don't need to push me away. [He reaches for her cheek, brushing away tears with his thumb once more.] My feelings haven't changed.

[Even being that close to her own shard, being held by her, realising what she'd done. He accepts all of it.]

[passio]

[ dextera feels a kinship with makoto that he simply doesn’t with anyone else. there’s a yearning hunger in both of them, borne of different reasons but shaking out just the same, and they’ve mutually shared vulnerability even if makoto doesn’t remember. makoto is his friend, someone dextera wants to hold onto—but when he brings up the potential of them returning to their separate worlds, dextera is surprised to find that it doesn’t scare him.

after all, what he wants is makoto here, now. he had mourned when he thought makoto was gone and never forgot what they shared, even with all tangible evidence of their relationship destroyed in horos. it’s not a lack of feeling for makoto that makes him take the possibility of separation with a brave face; rather, it’s the intimate knowledge that makoto could never be what dextera needs someone to be.

it’s a friendship of a different kind, but still only that: a friendship. makoto does not want to become one with him. to take him back to dextera’s world would only be miserable for them both; in the back of his mind, he compares it to gen, the guilty awareness that he doesn’t care if gen is miserable the way he would care for makoto.

he addresses none of this. instead, his expression turns fleetingly thoughtful as he falls back on his silence as an answer. luckily, makoto then asks a question that makes it necessary to really think.

the answer he comes to is a simple one, ]

…I’ll go with the Archangel.

[ not because he’ll choose to. he knows the archangel will drag his shard along into whatever new world is created in the aftermath. there’s no agency in this statement, the way there should be. ]

[muchalucha]

[ Indeed, there’s just enough for them to not have to go scrounging around someone else’s house, so Quetzalcoatl nods before she starts putting the dishes that aren’t in great shape back in. It seems weird to just leave them sitting out, especially when Liem might need the space… At least they’ll all be piled together in the “rejects” pile so he’d know not to bother. ]

Oh, yes, I’ve liked pies!! I had both kinds you’re talking about in Springstar, the savory and sweet, and they were both very good! Though I’m still getting used to sweets, I have to admit! My lands didn’t have sugar, so it’s still a surprising taste. So, if you do, savory please! I’d hate for you to do so much hard work and for it to be too much for me…

[ She laughs, and though she doesn’t tell the story, the tone of her laugh makes it clear she’s remembering a little mishap with it. Pies weren’t so bad, since fruits are expected, but a cupcake had been overpoweringly so. It’s something she clearly takes with good humor, though. ]

So, it might be funny for me to say after that, but I love spicy food the most! My favorite food for a long time has been tamales with a good chili sauce, but the more I try in Springstar, ay, I’m loving eating from all kinds of places! The other day I tried a curry from India, and it made me really sweat, so I loved it!

[ And with the dishes put away, she’ll just watch how Liem watches the dishes for a moment, since she’ll help with that too! …Once she knows how, at least. The Throne of Heroes may give Servants enough information to not be totally lost when being summoned, but washing dishes was definitely not included as pertinent information. ]

To be honest, it’s actually very fun to be able to try all kinds of things… Usually I’m way too busy to just, I don’t know, kind of just live how normal people do!

[dawnlord]

[ Sorry, Eye............ you got some real #freaks out here.

Bondrewd's sincerity is absolute, divorced of objectivity and immersed in scientific pursuit. Methodical study, field work, the meticulous thrust of himself into all forms of experience so that his conclusions are irrefutable — he must be Meridian, even for a moment, to truly be able to arrest their movements in the future. To still their hearts and calm their minds, and show them a better, brighter path. Zenith resembles the dark, the cold of the night, but it is a path where they can finally lay down their old burdens and choose new lives, where they would not be before.

He must be Meridian, he thinks, to be heard. Especially in the wake of this.

( And also, in burning through Zenith's energy, he recognizes how hasty he was not to do this from the beginning. Not to hold fast to all he had done, the responsibility he had first and foremost to the Ido Front, to the Abyss, to all who had died and the little ones in the Garden — the first Garden, where he laid them to rest. Not because they were dead, but because they had transformed irreparably and needed a cool, gentle place to live the remainder of their short lives.

He must examine this world, closely. ) ] I do. After all, the answer to all those who suffer is to love them.

[ he's gonna duel quetzalcoatl in the Love Arena ]

The Lady's vision for us all does not require we turn our backs on those who shine, only that we are irrevocably successful. More than that, if we cannot understand their motives, we will only ever clash with them. It is better to step alongside them, and guide them. We all are worth the love we can share.

[ He speaks of love, but the obvious distance between his ease of expression and understanding it and the stark, black hole of nonexistence, of the lightless depths of the Abyss, of the altar upon which he had placed his own heart and soul and carved it from himself for progress — it is obvious, that articulate as he is and honest as he is... he is divided from himself, perfectly precise and alarming. A man capable of severing his consideration and adoration, to ensure progress above all else.

That is the man who pats John's shoulder, reassuring, in their Communion. ] Your world is painful and dangerous, Mister Sims. Your wish appears to take the form of a wish: to save as many people as you are able to, even it means to condemn others — I believe in you, because I am the same. Precisely the same.

[redsoil]

[ Akua knows. Akua understands. The relief that he feels is tangible, it sinks into his lungs and allows him to breathe, to know that he is not the only one who cannot simply look upon the needs of Faction in terms of win Oracles and be undeniably loyal. They are necessary things to obtain an ideological goal, but how had those goals come to be? The Tree had been trying to warn him of something. ( To see his brother drawn from its roots and offered a place among others, to be given the same attentions that Set had by the Lady — it is a potential, but the potential for it curdles his respect for her. Is it truly love she feels, if she turns a blind eye to the unique intricacies of the individual? Is she even seeing the Shard-bearers, or just the distant image of the children she says were once hers? )

Conversations of precarious balances. His innate knowledge of ma'at, the balance of order and chaos. There is something deeper.

As if called to, he also finds his fingers upon her. Tracing the edge of her shard, feeling the likeness calling to him; a villain, a woman seeking to be difficult and terrible for others, someone who he can speak with about not simply past, or future, but the issues facing them in the present. ]

— it was a machine, and knowledge. That the Church of Helios may be involved in more than just the creation and trade of shards.

[ And he'll just update her on the contents of the whole thing, even if they haven't yet happened, which is funny because it's just me giving info one of jill's characters experienced to jill's other character ]

[passio]

Nn…

[ dextera doesn’t know what to do, when caught between the realization that he’s hurt gen’s feelings—over the same matter, no less—and the acknowledgment that he was only being honest. it’s not something he can apologize for, and something that he knows he shouldn’t. on a personal level, he can stand not to apologize for his own feelings this time… and on an interpersonal level, he knows gen would hate to have attention called to it.

this manifests as dextera chasing his fingers when gen lets his hand slip away, but the practical outcome is that he brushes gen’s palm without grabbing it. he withdraws only when it would become too obvious for him to linger. ]

…

[ there’s silence from dextera too, when he looks up from gen’s hand to see gen looking back at him. the question, expecting an answer. ]

I don’t know. I like how this side makes me feel.

[bakedapple]

[ Link considers Zhongli's words quietly, his eyes drifting down to the ground as his thoughts settle. Although he's starting to feel very hopeless about all of this, the other man's words seem to have reached him. He's right — there has to be some purpose in their coming to this place, hasn't there? And while all signs certainly point to the Tree being dead... they need to, have to, operate on the assumption that it isn't beyond saving. Because if it is, then they really are doomed, and all of this is pointless.

When he looks back up at Zhongli, there's a glimmer of renewed vigor in his eyes. He doesn't say as much, but he's thankful.

There's something else on his mind. ]

You're... a Zenite. Aren't you? [ Taking a step to continue on towards the depths below the Tree, he waits for Zhongli to follow, so they can talk while they walk. ] Why have you chosen to abandon your world?