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

Liem Talbott | Meridian | Harbinger

[sterngaze]

I. THE CITY

[By the time Aetós's spell grips him, pulls him through space and time to emerge anew at the withered, dead-or-dying husk of the Tree of Life, Liem has been run ragged — worn out physically from the strain of rescuing ailing Springstar residents and mentally from the toll that their deaths have taken on his morale. The man who ventures from the desiccated tree to wander the silent, abandoned streets of the two cities looks wrung out and used up.

However, he has no time to rest, and no place to safely do so regardless. Instead, he delves into the urban sprawl, searching.]

a. [His first priority is Heliopolis — primarily because it is where he would expect to find survivors if there were any, or at least signs they might have left behind. It was Springstar's beating heart, and therefore the most obvious place to seek not just information, but also usable supplies, if any yet remain in the city. The store rooms he checks are mostly empty save of rot and rust, but he is reluctant to head back outside, into the pitiless gaze of that dying sun.

You might find him moving through the abandoned halls and courtyards like a ghost, casting paranoid glances over his shoulder, flinching in the light that floods through the windows. Perhaps there is yet something of interest in the municipal buildings — but failing that, there is still the Church.]

b. [Eventually, he is forced back out into the city proper, armed only with a rust-pitted knife and a look of haunted determination. Navigating the streets remains an exercise in misery; the sun scorches him evilly, leaving him weak and dizzy after only a few minutes exposure, and so he takes to the shadows — only to be chased from them by a wire-taut foreboding so intense it sends sweat pouring down his spine. Under the circumstances, it's no surprise he resorts to breaking into empty buildings for relief.

He wanders for as long as he can, and you may come across him thus: scouring abandoned buildings for supplies, or pale-faced, braving the sun and shadows in between. Once he's endured all he can bear, you may even meet him on his way home, laden with what meagre supplies he's scavenged, seeking the safety of his own house to ease his exhaustion. Perhaps, if you are a friendly face, he will even invite you in.]

II. THE TREE

[It begins slowly: the waning of his magic, the strangeness in his blood. When Liem leaves the unbearable heat of the cities behind and delves beneath the Tree to seek the Oracle, he feels weary and heartsore, but his determination to see their task through to the end remains stubbornly intact. This time, he can't help but feel, the choice is succeed or die.

But the caverns below hold nothing for the shard-bearers except imprisonment, and two motionless figures — one of wood and one simply frozen in time. Liem has prowled the entire perimeter of the space, disappeared down each tunnel and looked into each alcove. He has stared into the hollow eyes of the effigy and wondered what he is meant to do. It avails him nothing; there is no test here, yet. He is left alone with his thirst, and his fatigue, and most of all, his doubts.

That is when the struggle truly begins.]

a. [In the first stretch of time, before the effigy makes its demands, Liem seeks out other shard-bearers for the respite of distraction their thoughts offer. He does not wish to be left alone with the visions and questions and despairs that the slow boil of Zenith inside him brings on. It is easier to shove those thoughts aside when he can instead turn his attention outward — and so he looks for those whose thoughts are loudest, or whose distraction seems most apparent, and he approaches with every appearance of normalcy, to gesture with a restrained little movement at the space next to them.]

Might I join you?

b. [Liem's composure can only withstand the strain of his growing distress for so long before it begins to crack — and then to crumble. When he cannot bear it anymore and still maintain a facade of calm, he retreats to what meagre, root-formed privacy he can find while the tide of his corruption-fed doubts tries to drown him. There is a hot, manic look in his eyes as he stares down at his trembling hands, shedding waves of wild despair tangled up with the frantic need to put it somewhere. At some point, the knife he scavenged in Springstar has ended up clutched in his fingers. He hasn't yet seemed to realize that he might have an audience.]

III. WILDCARD

[If we plotted something and none of the above prompts seem quite right, feel free to just take them as inspiration and wildcard me something! Liem's corruption struggles will wax and wane throughout the ritual, though he'll generally trend worse over time. As always, you can hit me up on Discord or on Plurk at Sporelett to work out specific details.]

ii-b

[cutlery]

[ As the Factions’ energies take root and fester in peoples’ hearts, Sebastian is rather eager to find a reprieve from it. It’s not for their sakes, of course, nor any disquiet in his own heart. Meridian could hardly find any purchase in the mind of someone that had never really cared about their world in the first place. No, Sebastian just wanted to try and find some quiet away from the way it all came out from Communion. There’s not much in the way of the roots to explore, and thus not much quiet to find, but it does eventually lead him to Liem.

…It’s not the first time he’d end up on the receiving end of a frenzied, manic look from Liem. It was recent, even. That’s probably part of why he’s not so bothered, considering his own behavior had been rather poor at the time, and they had settled things quite amicably. ]

Mr. Talbott?

[ Sebastian calls his name first as he looks for recognition, since if this is like the last time, well. He’d need to disarm him first, he supposes… What a bother. At the very least, the quiet calm of Sebastian’s mind might provide some relief to Liem as the ever-present Communion connects them. Where Liem’s thoughts may be frenzied and despairing, Sebastian’s seem to be so self-assured and serene. ]

cw: self harm

[sterngaze]

[Liem's focus inward is so despairingly intent that he does not notice Sebastian's approach — heralded though it is by the muted confidence of his thoughts — until he hears his name called out to him. He has to drag his gaze from the blade in his grip, from the promise of bright, singing pain he can already imagine were he to jerk the weathered edge across his exposed palm. The immediacy of that suffering has long been a rock to him, serving to ground him in the here and now.

It is familiar — so much so that the ghost of that white-hot sensation stabs through him, and pulses out like the toll of a bell, even as he lowers the knife and lifts his gaze.]

Mister Michaelis.

[His reply is soft, as though the fever in his eyes and tension in his body have left him with little breath to speak above a whisper. His grip on the knife is still white-knuckled, though the trembling in his hands seems to have stilled. Indeed, he seems to have gone entirely motionless, save for the focus of his eyes and the slow, shallow movements of his breathing.

Although he tries to mask the extent of his distraction, the tenor of his thoughts does not calm significantly even when faced with Sebastian's serenity.]

Are you here seeking privacy…?

[cutlery]

[ The way that the factions’ energies present themselves is so unique for each person that it would be fascinating in other circumstances. Even amongst those tainted by the same forces, it simply presented differently from person to person. No surprise, he guesses, considering each person’s motivations for what drew them to Meridian or Zenith could be so unique, but it was something he could only view with a sort of detached fascination, considering what he was.

His eyes therefore focus most on the blade and how it’s turned towards Liem himself. His gaze lingers on the blade, but he shakes his head in response to the question. ]

Mm, if only. There is precious little to be found here, unfortunately.

[ Something that’s both very valuable and deeply loathsome to him, considering. But, still. He takes a step closer, and his gaze drifts up to catch Liem’s. ]

I do not mean to intrude upon yours, of course. You need only ask and I shall step away. [ And he would, though he’s more hoping that Liem’s similar standards of politeness would have him forgo the invitation. ] To state the obvious, Zenith does not seem to do you well.

i-b

[muchalucha]

[ If there’s one Shard-Bearer that’s rather uniquely suited to bear the situation with the suns, it’s certainly Quetzalcoatl. Though it’s a few worlds past at this point, she had still been one of the gods that had taken up the honored position as the sun itself, and it was an association that had never quite left her. It’s fair enough, since compared to the rude Tezcatlipoca, aloof Tlaloc, and timid Chalchiuhtlicue, Quetzalcoatl’s personality was a natural match. So even as a Servant, heat didn’t tend to bother her.

Liem has likely been at his torturous rotation between sun and shadow for a bit by the time Quetzalcoatl spots him, and she immediately smiles more brightly. It seemed like there were enough Shard-Bearers that had emerged from the Tree that it was probably all of them, but still! It’s good to see a friendly face, which is why she’s rather quick to make her way closer as she waves. ]

¡Hola, señor Talbott!

[ Just from her cheer alone, Liem can probably guess that the heat isn’t quite so oppressive for her… Though the way her expression falls a little once she gets close enough to see how he’s doing is a another good hint. ]

Oh, you look— [ bad??? ] Are you okay?

[sterngaze]

[Diligent exploration throughout Springstar's ruined streets and buildings has granted Liem a shabby bag he's filled with a motley assortment of usable supplies, and a bone-deep weariness that goes beyond even his usual state of fatigue. The glare of the dying sun and the threat of the shade have ground him down to next to nothing, a cloaked figure that skulks wearily from shadow to shadow, face bone-white but for the faintly livid sunburns painting the cheeks and nose with bruise-like grey. He is mainly identifiable by his cloak and boots, which seem improbably beautiful against the city's crumbling backdrop, and the aquiline silhouette of his face when he turns to look at Quetzalcoatl fully. Then, of course, the eyes leave no room for doubt.

But yes. He does look rather bad.]

Ah— well met, ma'am.

[She, at least, looks hale enough despite the current state of things. But then, Quetzalcoatl is the avatar of a god, and Liem is just an ailing little half-vampire.

Despite his weariness, some of the strain leaves his expression when she hails him. He stands in the shadow of a dilapidated chandlery, braving the shaded half of the street for now rather than creeping back out into the sun.]

I am ill-suited to this evil glare, [he admits.] It seems to burn off even my cloak of shadows, or else the magic here just runs especially thin. But a little rest will fortify me.

[He could probably use some aloe vera too — but he couldn't find any in his preliminary explorations.]

[muchalucha]

[ When Liem turns to look her way and she sees the sunburn, that’s the last straw before she’s quicker to close that distance between them. She very carefully positions herself so that she’s acting as his shadow, even though the difference in their heights isn’t all that extreme, but since she’s learned about how a Shard-Bearer’s shadow can be helpful, well! Hers is definitely large enough to help out most of them! Granted, he might already be fine in the shade and with his cloak, but she’s still wanting to do what she can to help. ]

Oh, ¡pobrecito! You’re all burnt up!

[ She too wishes she had some posacmetl to be able to give to him, but alas, no such luck. Just finding things that weren’t totally threadbare was difficult enough, so something as soothing as that was nearly out of the question… ]

Mm, this sun is even harsher than the deserts that were in my lands, so it’s no wonder, but… [ She makes a lightly unhappy noise, but she does look to his cloak. Considering how it stands out and his name for it, she can make a good guess at what it is, even if she’s not personally very familiar. ] Your cloak is magic and isn’t even helping?

ii-a!

[lifespanned]

[ Misa reacts to the Meridian's creep within her soul as one would treat an infection or a rash — with disdain. The memories of the good times that plague her mind, the stubborn hope trying to worm its way into her heart... they don't feel compatible with her at all. What's been thrust upon them all down here, as they lay within the imprisonment of the effigy's alleged conjuring, increasingly feels like a confusing burden to her - one she similarly seeks a distraction from. Her head lifts when Liem calls out to her, looking much more troubled than she usually might. ]

Oh — hey, Liem. Sure thing..

[ She pats the space next to her, gesturing for him to sit with her. Her knees are bent, her elbows leaned against them as she makes a concentrated effort to sort out her own thoughts - to stubbornly, stubbornly peel apart her own from the ones she feels are (wrongfully) bearing down upon her. ]

Let me guess, your head is starting to hurt from all this thinking too, huh?

[ Though he doesn't seem to be showing it, she can still hope that she isn't alone in her feelings. ]

[sterngaze]

[At Misa's invitation, Liem crouches down and sits carefully on the cavern floor next to her, arranging his cloak beneath him so he isn't sitting on bare earth. The smile he offers her is wan, but nonetheless genuine, reflecting the small bloom of camaraderie that flickers briefly through the troubled cloud of his emotions as he joins her.

His doubts always seem a little smaller, a little less heavy when he can focus on someone else's instead.]

I suppose you could say that.

[Like her, he sits with knees bent, resting one hand atop one leg as he leans the other against the ground beside him. It is a more comfortable, casual posture than he has tended to show in more civilized surrounds — but they are trapped in a hole in the ground, at the end of everything. It seems silly to pretend.]

I thought I'd done enough of that already. Two end-of-the-world scenarios is enough for anyone, don't you agree?

[lifespanned]

Yeah, tell me about it...

[ She gives him a nod in acknowledgement, rubbing a knuckle against her brow. In some ways, Liem is one of the most preferable people to be around in this moment — her fellow Zenites are all suffering the same affliction as her. She's not sure most Meridians would ever understand her unwillingness to see things their way... but Liem, she knows that there's some level of implicit understanding, despite where he's at currently. They used to be on the same side, after all. And so, Misa feels more at ease - and more like she can just say the feelings that are brewing in her heart. ]

You doing okay? Hopefully you're not having all these weird visions and things like I am... I mean, it'd make anyone feel crazy.

[ But much as the visions of home and the people she loves bother her... she's stubborn to a delusional degree. If she just keeps repeating to herself that there's no way any of it could have merit, then maybe... just maybe, she can fend off any lingering feelings of doubt. ]

ii-a

[zauneyete]

[ Underneath the tree, things are both more and less complicated than they were above. Although Silco had been "helping" Meridian while exploring the odd cityscapes above, there was little trust to be found. He couldn't imagine why. Down here, beneath the tree, things were far odder. Silco did not feel unusual without powers -- he was used to being powerless -- but he could feel that sickening, constant attempt from what he could only describe as Meridian trying to promise him the world and more.

Everything had been tried. He could have swore he heard the voice of his daughter, somewhere behind him and to his left, howling with rage that he'd just give up on Zaun, on her, but Silco knew that she very well might be dead. It didn't dissipate, the more he expelled the energy from him, and even now, his eyes danced off to the distance, every few moments, as if there was something else out there.

He refused to address it -- her -- and Liem is a welcome distraction for the man, though he has not expelled the last of Meridian from him. He wants to. Needs to, but perhaps the power of his conviction for destruction isn't enough to expel it fully yet -- or perhaps the challenge inspires something in Meridian to keep trying.

Silco's lips are turned into a frown, and somewhere nearby is Set, though they are not sitting quite so close as they had been earlier, as if the exchange of their energies was enough to force them to repel. ]

Don't tell me you were swayed by my... [ His hands spread, now, magnanimous. ] Assistance to Meridian earlier.

[sterngaze]

[For Liem, the infection of Zenith energies is not so much an affront as it is an unsettlingly familiar problem — one that he thought he'd put to bed already, enough so that he'd been unable to fathom deserting Meridian's promise for a place in Zenith. What doubts he'd had about his choice had shrunk and disappeared over the months he'd spent Harmonizing more fully with Meridian's light. He truly believed that it was the best choice — not just for his world, but for all.

And yet, despite his conviction, the weakening of Meridian inside him and the growing insistence of Zenith that there are truths he's been turning away from until now… they recall him to his time in Horos. And, terrible though the leadership of the Regent had been, Liem's despair when he'd served them had always been that the whispers of destruction they served were not only inevitable, but just.]

No — I would not be so quick to form a new judgement.

[It would take far more than a temporary alliance for Liem to form a positive opinion of the man called Silco, based on what he knows of him so far. His memories of Silco from Horos are rather sparing — but the things he's heard about him since their arrival in Kenos haven't painted him in a positive light.

Nonetheless, here Liem is, volunteering himself for his company; not because he has deemed Silco trustworthy, but because he has never seen a quarrel with someone as being reason not to hear what they have to say.]

The sooner we are all able to resolve the conflicts within ourselves, the sooner we will have the opportunity to address the troubles that await outside this cavern; would you not agree?

[zauneyete]

If that would be the thing to unlock our escape, certainly.

[ He said, placidly. His hands spread, head tipped. Silco was good at lying. He'd lied since he was old enough to look an Enforcer in the face and tell him "no, I didn't steal that food, but a little kid went that way". So he's quite good at ignoring the barrage of questions and cajoling that use the voice of his daughter behind him. She would have been the only one to convince him to question his alignment, and even then, he was so thoroughly on this path, that he would have worked to convince her instead -- but she had been Zenith too, remember?

It's that reassurance that allows him to ignorethe voice, a single lifeline that he grasps tightly, in the noise of all this ill-fitting Meridian that fights to strangle him in its light. ]

Though I wonder, given our... extra little friend [ Mr. Tibbs ] If this will be only one part of it all. Do you find this a poor-fitting suit, or one that could be tailored yet again? I have not forgotten, that you once ran with us, in Horos.

[ They might not have spoken much, but Silco was ever looking for whispers, in the Regents halls. He had sold more than one traitor out. ]

i-a (how about some blasphemy)

[impiety]

[ On a whim, Archangel comes to Heliopolis. He sees the streets are just as empty as everywhere else. He wanders until he sees a Church; his wings help to keep him shaded as he goes.

Upon entering the so-called hallowed grounds, he scoffs and sneers at everything that he sees. If he did not worry about wasting his energy, he may have started destroying what was inside. ]

Yet again... the people hope for salvation and none is given to them.

[ His wings extend. ]

No matter what the world... gods are the same.

[sterngaze]

[Liem has been taking the opportunity to rest in a shady corner of the chapel, gathering his strength there before venturing further inside. Even on his best days, stamina has never been one of Liem's strengths. The oppressive conditions in the city and the time it's been since he last tasted blood have made rest a frequent necessity.

Nonetheless, he feels confident enough to drag himself to his feet when he hears another enter the chapel. Liem is momentarily bewildered by the sight of an angelic figure standing in the midst of the dilapidated temple. Fortunately, he's seen stranger things; he gets over his surprise quickly.]

Is that how you regard Meridian and Zenith? As deities?

[He is cautiously curious as he regards the figure across the rust-coloured shadows and slashes of bloody light painting the space.]

They seem more akin to forces of existence, to me. Like Law and Chaos.

[impiety]

[ He pauses at the series of questions. ]

How is it that you view gods?

[ What an interesting topic as the world seems to head towards an unfortunate end. Meridian and Zenith do not feel like law and chaos to him. They feel more like selfishness versus selflessness. And so he says: ]

Gods are forces of existence. From them, we try to make sense of what it is that they do... we name them in a way that makes sense so that we can comprehend them better. But in the end, that comprehension only is based on our limited understanding.

[ They will never know why gods do anything, but Archangel believes in one thing. ]

Gods' cruelty is not maliciousness, but rather neglect. They cannot understand and so they simply watch the suffering... and we make sense of their silence and call it kindness or tests. [ A beat. ] So, yes, they are deities.

Deities that do not wish to save anyone and so we must save ourselves ...

i-a.

[redsoil]

[ It is without word, that the thrumming of Meridian's energy coalesces. It flinches and falters, stuttering like a bird with a broken wing as a lattice of dark, desiccated vines begin to ensnare the great windows of Meridian's Church and cast at least one long line of blistering light into patches of shadow. Below the sill stands a redhead, his own skin blistered from the sunlight, dark circles building under his own eyes ( or perhaps, that is simply the black kohl he layers in smudgy, smoky lines upon his skin — ). Set holds his hand fast to the wall of the Church, forcing his faltering powers to build shade for Liem. To give him a place that is not true bright, nor true dark. ]

Liem Talbott.

[ He speaks his name, in a hoarse whisper. Peeling his fingers from the great, towering wall in order to begin to approach the other. ]

Why did you not seek me? Are we not friends by now?

[ Friends, says a god, to a priest. Friends, Set so freely, so suddenly, calls them. ]

If you ail, I will be there for you. Yet, I cannot be, if you do not let me know when you need me.

[sterngaze]

[Liem, who has spent much of his life travelling in the company of no one at all, who has long considered the wretched realities of difficult service something that exists only between him and his patron god, is not in the habit of seeking aid — especially from those who might regard him as friend. He is slow to heed the suggestion that he should do so, even after Set's past admonishments, and those of others. By his reckoning, he is not so feeble that he must trouble others with such things.]

I have no more need than anyone else of such assistance.

[He speaks this with conviction, despite the blooms of livid, dusky grey that show starkly against the fatigued white of his face. The sun has burned him cruelly, dizzied and fatigued him — but the shadows it casts are long, and he still retains enough of his power to summon shade of his own, for some brief stretches when he must travel beneath its unshielded glare. He is not helpless against it, despite the weakness in his blood.

Besides; he can plainly see the toll this apocalyptic land has taken on Set as well. The ruddy shadows of the church's vine-clothed interior cannot hide such things from him.

Liem sits in a carven alcove, scorning the rickety, time-worn pews in favour of a lip of stone at the foot of the wall. But when the slash of sanguine light is choked by Set's withered vines, he emerges to step into it. Friends, the god says. He would not have assumed such a thing — even now mistrusts it, like a wild creature eyeing bait dangled before its nose.]

Perhaps I did not call because I believed your aid would be better directed elsewhere. You must be very busy.

[redsoil]

It is precisely because you are equal in need, that you have the right to call out.

[ And it is within a god's ability, and power, to spread themselves across all voices raised to them and touch the lives of each and every one. Is this what Nephthys meant, when she said that a god was not meant to rule? That their power was not for absolute dominance, but to support, to uplift. He thought he'd known it once — who he was, what he was meant for, the authority he had received by virtue of his birth and ascension. Had he not been perfect of form and mind?

As Liem emerges, the faintest of sounds escapes Set. A little sigh, not of displeasure or pity, but — of what? Acknowledgement, maybe. He has fed this man himself for weeks, and listened to his tales and queries with the mindfulness of a companion, moreso than a god who looms large and unattainable. Set is a god, and he walks there among the people of Kenos. He crosses to Liem without hesitation, and halts within reach of him. To rake his eyes over the fatigue in his face, his weaknesses. ]

Never so busy, that I cannot be here for you. What will it take to prove that?

[ He will not struggle or scrape to uncover what it would take, for Liem to believe in his sincerity. He will ask, and do precisely that. ]

I do not take friendship lightly. I do not really take on friends at all, so I want to do right by you.

ii-b

[hyperpotamous]

[ things are better now. john can't remember the last time he actually felt at peace, which ordinarily might be a clue that maybe something's horribly wrong, but the Zenith's influence is too strong in him now.

it's liem's despair that draws john to him like a shark to something flailing in the water. now that he firmly has a side again, he has to win, which means bringing people to his side, one way or another. he does not consider that he was brought over that way. that doesn't really matter right now. he'll hold that grudge until he's ready, but ultimately, no one tells him to go where he didn't already want to go.

he studies liem and his knife briefly. that's sure an idea john could've had before they got here, but collecting pointy objects to hold onto doesn't seem like a good idea when you're rubbing elbows with people who can legitimately fight because they've had years of specialised training; he's never going to win that fight without his necromancy. ]

I doubt that's going to help at all. You can do whatever you like to the meat, and it won't ever touch the real problem.

[ which is an extremely normal greeting from a guy with nightmare eyes. ]

This Shard business is muddling things up, as usual, don't you think?

cw: self harm mention

[sterngaze]

[The struggle for the second — or second half of the first, really — Oracle is not going how Liem might have predicted. He'd thought himself dedicated to Meridian's purpose, aligned with it for reasons that couldn't be swayed or circumvented. He hadn't dreamed that his doubt and his despair would return to swallow him up again, to grip him tight until he became desperate for something, anything to rip himself from the swirling vortex dragging him deeper. The battered knife he'd found is a clumsy tool, but at least the pain might wake him up—

Liem's reverie is interrupted by the sound of a nearby voice, and not one he particularly recognizes. Tearing his gaze away from his hands, and the pitted blade in them, he looks up to meet eyes even more unnatural than his own. The dimness of the root cavern cannot disguise the strange, oil-slick irises with their rings of white: eyes he has previously seen only from afar, during his activities in Alenroux.

He stares dully at John for a moment, seemingly in revulsion, before finally appearing to absorb what he said. Liem asks evenly, in a voice gone slightly hoarse with misery—]

What problem would that be?

[hyperpotamous]

You're conflicted. Indecisive.

[ he was just there himself, after all. it was painful to be plunged repeatedly into his worst memories. reliving the end. every memorial for a fallen friend he couldn't bring back again. revisiting the betrayals that are still so recent that he recalls every detail with perfect clarity.

but now he is a calm presence in Communion, but one that simultaneously manages to feel mildly oppressive. he isn't as careful about masking what he is anymore, and the strangeness of being in close proximity to his inhuman soul melange is palpable. Zenith resonates well with him; it had always suited him in many ways, but he couldn't overcome his objections to ever truly consider it (see: yima). but he is a god of necromancy who draws the most power from the act of dying itself; it's no wonder that once the balance had shifted, he'd managed to get swept up so completely. ]

You want to choose, but you keep getting in your own way, isn't that right?

II-a.

[eyesite]

( "john, you can't just give up like this."

he reacts without thinking to the voice, so real and present that its owner might as well have been sitting next to him; he flinches, shoulders bowing, and reaches up to roughly drag one hand down his face. it's mostly to obfuscate the pain in his expression. he tells himself that it's just cruel manipulation from the influence that crawls, sluggish and terrible, through his veins, replacing his blood. there's no other feasible explanation. the person the voice belongs to is one whose shard he has recently received. before he had come here, he had gone to his quarters in yima's manor to make certain it was where he had left it for safekeeping, enshrouded in soft cloth and locked within a small box he kept hidden in a secret compartment in his desk.

that having been said... were martin here, he has no doubt that this would be exactly what he would be saying to him. even if it was certain that there was no way to bring their world back from the Hell that it had become, he would still search to the end for the faintest glimmer of hope. and he would have done it out of compassion, rather than guilt or a feeling of necessity; it's something that, despite (or perhaps because) being a differentiating factor between them, he loves about him.

it means that he is stronger than john is. he just — he isn't willing to risk it. he can't, not again, not when he actually has a choice this time.

"we'll - we'll find another way. we'll go back to the Archives, face elias - a-at the very least we can't just allow him to get away with it. so, please, john - please —"

blessedly, liem interrupts this. john doesn't even look up to him before replying, ) Mr Talbott... Yes, please do. ( speaking to someone — anyone — will distract him from this (and he could do for far worse company than liem). it makes sense that the Meridian infected with the doubts of Zenith are pained, because it is always a terrible thing, to have hope challenged, tarnished, and potentially lost. so why, then, does john, tempered with hope instead, radiate with such self-defeated and piteous misery? it subsides somewhat as he focuses instead on his new company, but even then, that's just a temporary ripple along the surface of a pond. )

[sterngaze]

[Perhaps sitting down with someone, with another harbinger, whose despair and misery is just as wretched as his own, is not the best way for Liem to distract himself from his own predicament. As he takes John's invitation and settles carefully next to him, the tenor of the emotions rolling off of him mingle so freely with Liem's that he struggles to tell where his own black feelings end and John's begin. The distraction hardly seems worth the cost.

And yet, how could he leave the other man be, expecting him to weather his misery in solitude, when the extent of it is, to Liem of all people, so plainly obvious? He cannot. Even though John is no ally of his, he cannot turn a blind eye to the suffering before him, not when he feels it so keenly.]

I am weary of trials like this one.

[He observes it with a sigh, leaning back against the lumpy root wall behind him. For him, it is distressingly like the time he'd spent below the Regent's citadel, suffering on the floor as he fought to fend off the despair crawling through his body. That the experience is somehow similar for John despite their different allegiances is most strange, and not especially comforting.]

I'd thought my conviction steady — and yours too, for how swiftly you made your own choice. And yet, the Oracle demands its struggle.

[eyesite]

( the magnitude of intensity for which Communion resonated between him and those similarly marked by the symbol of the Harbinger is disconcerting even for john, and it's in his very role and purpose to sympathetically link himself with others, to hear their deepest and most traumatic fears, to feel them as presently for himself as they had been felt by their originator, and then to inscribe them upon himself as a living Archive to their testament. in that way, this type of Communion isn't exactly novel to him, but its persistence and its indiscretion are. as much as the Archivist demands the secrets of others, he is hypocritically unhappy to have his own pried away from where he usually keeps them kept close to the chest.

even with their shared sense of emotional sympathy, the finer details as to what he grapples with are still left indistinct and obfuscated. but there is one predominant feeling that comes through, which colors and saturates all else: whatever it is that makes john reject Meridian, which makes him reject the idea of fighting for the return of his home, is a profound feeling of guilt. whatever it is that makes him reject it, he feels as though it's his fault.

bitterly, the corners of his mouth hike into a grim smile, and he gives a single, harsh-edged laugh. ) Don't tell me things like this are a pattern.

( he knows many of the Shard-Bearers here hold much longer histories to this struggle, to kenos and the world horos that had seemingly preceded it. though, the more he thinks of it, the more it makes sense that "to suffer" becomes a common through-line in this conflict. when deciding the fate of all that is, it simply wouldn't do if it were any easier, would it? )

Well, that's just the thing about convictions. They're only as strong as the challenges that they weather. ( he turns slightly to look at liem out of the corner of one eye, remembering how he had introduced himself in alenroux — a holy man, one who identifies himself first and foremost of a church. )

It's the same with faith, isn't it? What's the point in having faith, if one doesn't occasionally have doubts?

( john's own lack of faith in what he says illustrates his own thoughts on the subject. he's not necessarily an atheist — the Fears are ostensibly gods, albeit not in the classic sense, and he himself is proof of their existence. but he feels he cannot believe in anything he can't see, he can't hear, he can't derive any proof of. all he knows is that once a person dies, they are beyond the reach of the fears, even the End — whether that is the protection of God or simply cessation to be, he supposes it's not his place to know. )