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

[intervener]

This your way of saying we're friends?

[diversionist]

If that's what it takes.

[ speaks not only to vash's answer, but to the silent one in communion. cassian hadn't expected the magnitude of that response, but he doesn't regret evoking it. he'd known a strong reaction was a risk of using that particular weapon. the sense of him is intent, patience fraying the longer this goes on, but sincere in his desire to help. ruthless, in his desire to help. ]

[intervener]

[ 'if that's what it takes.'

it was about the response he had anticipated, neither denial nor acceptance. expecting straight answers out of 'Melshi' is kind of like expecting to run into a waterfall in the desert. sure, you could go chasing them... but you're better off sticking to the rivers and the lakes like you're used to.

this seems to be what finally nudges Vash in the direction Melshi wants, regardless; he is unfastening the loose collar of his coat, beginning to reach beneath the fabric of his shirt to find his Shard where it sits under the grate over his heart - the lightbulb-shaped receptacle holding a half-decayed red crystal geranium.

Vash holds out his other hand for the piece of glass. ]

[diversionist]

[ he relaxes, just incrementally, when vash finally relents. a ripple of relief through communion, unable to be helped. he hands the glass over to vash, eyes flickering to the man's other hand, to the shard he reaches for and pulls out. with both of cassian's hands now free, he pulls the shard from his palm for ease of access.

time to get this over with. ]

[intervener]

[ after tugging his glove off, he cuts into his index finger without further ceremony, dripping a few thick, viscous drops of sap-blood atop his Shard. ]

You owe me a drink for this.

[ that definitely sounded sulky,

the Communion spits a frazzled mix of emotions; quiet irritation; guilt; loneliness. hope; curiosity; apprehension. what happens next isn't important: they will end up closer to where they want to be, even if Vash still doesn't understand what's driven 'Melshi' in the opposite direction he's going. ]

[diversionist]

Stop complaining.

[ he says sternly, reaching out in turn to smear some of his blood-sap onto vash's shard. and then,

vash surely learns that what happens next is important: because the empathetic bond opens between the two of them, crumbles every single one of cassian's — and his, surely — defenses, leaving the answer to vash's earlier question, his why, crystal clear.

cassian had said to him once, we aren't all so lucky as to be born in peaceful times. the truth of that burns clear now: vash sees armies in white armor marching into towns, crushing resistance, hanging so-called instigators in the square; he sees this expanded across cities, across planets, across an entire galaxy. history rewritten: anyone who ever opposed the empire, criminals and discontents and monsters; anyone who supported it, heroes bringing about peace, making the galaxy better for everyone.

a frightened voice: they're making a weapon, a planet-killer.

an ancient city crowded with people, falling to pieces under an unfathomably huge shockwave, too powerful to leave survivors. a young man's voice: tyranny requires constant effort. it breaks, it leaks. authority is brittle. cassian, fleeing a battlefield as a teenager; cassian, a child, looking out upon an ugly scar of an enormous mine, on what should be (once was) an arboreal planet; cassian, an adult, committing wholeheartedly to the cause of resistance, to fighting the empire, until he has nothing left. because he has nothing left, no home or family or scruples or identity left to him but the cause.

because zenith promises change. because he cannot restore his galaxy as he left it, and live with himself. because he already cannot live with himself, the lives he's ended and atrocities he's wrought, but at least they were for something. because there should be people out there who are meant for peaceful times, who will be able to speak of the empire, of terror and oppression and darkness, in the past tense, taste freedom, know what he never has —

and so, it's easy. it's easy to let go of the bright meridian energies bottled in his blood and let them pour into vash; it's easy to take, in turn, the cool zenith energies that whisper to him of a better galaxy. ]

[intervener]

[ he had asked why his companion had embraced the Zenith, yes: and the answer comes in a flood Vash was not expecting.

the line where he ends and Cassian begins (Cassian - this sly bitch) and Vash ends fuzzes; blurs. there are moments where there is little separating them, if anything at all; he can feel the hopelessness, the yearning, the grief and loss, the anger, bitter like choking on bile in his throat as if it were his own. he can see planets from the stars in a way he has not since he was a child consumed by tyranny and a sense of profound sadness.

planets lost, cities lost, people lost. time lost, years lost - a hope for this man's own peaceful future, lost. pieces of Cassian's life rush by in painful snippets, leaving nothing but a sense of acceptance and resolve behind.

it has to be - is - incredibly ironic that the man sitting opposite him, seized in this wide-eyed daze as it all washes over him, represents the other side of the coin as if in perfect dichotomy. Vash wants to speak, some visceral desire to undo what's been done overtaking him as the totality of Cassian's feelings pervade him - but it's too late. and like a dream shifting, nonsensical and yet perfectly comprehensible to a dreamer's mind, Vash's regret is swallowed up by the blistering heat of sister suns high in the too-blue sky.

...the sun-scorched deserts of No Man's Land are blinding; there are bodies half-buried in the sand, the wreckages of the SEED ships sitting like broken monoliths in an otherwise empty landscape. countless graves, countless bullets, the heavy stench of gunpowder and grease and blood. so many faces; towns; places. people. children grown older, friends grown older, friends who never got to grow at all. friends turned enemies for a few double dollars; trust betrayed; hopes crushed. so much violence and fear; hands pressed against the glass of a bulb again and again and again; apologies; guilt. exploitation. destruction.

and yet all of it is softened by arms slung jovially around his neck and raucous laughter in a saloon over a game of cards, or by being wrestled down to the ground beneath a gaggle of children pulling at lanky limbs, or the clink of a glass shared with a dark-haired shitty priest, the scent of cigarette smoke drowning out the stench of blood. or a woman's face scrunched with tears - even if you're in the dark right now, the blank ticket in your hand is just waiting to be filled in--

countless, innumerable names and faces he's memorized down to the last reaching out and showing him kindness. so, so many people who struggled in that unforgiving, barren place because they had no other choices. Rem's sacrifice--

Wolfwood.

Cassian was right. just like him, just like everything he's given - it can't all be for nothing. everything... all of it - the people. their struggles, their pain, their desperate bid to keep going, the way they have kept going despite all the odds against them. all the people gone, all the people who gave something precious up along the way, all the people that overcame those who tried to steal everything from them but couldn't--

he believes in them. he believes the bridges will connect, that they will find their hard-earned peace. it will all be for something, and it isn't something anyone can give them.

they have already earned it. they built it.

it's all of them. he isn't losing a single one. ]

[diversionist]

[ sitting across from vash, cassian closes his eyes. his outstretched hand had been dropped once the dams between the two of them broke. he hadn't offered this to vash for the purpose of seeing inside his heart or mind, but he doesn't know how — or if it's even possible — to do one without the other. the trade, without the sharing of secrets.

maybe it's a funny thought for a man who deals in secrets.

he gets his answer to the long ago wondered question: what kind of planet is named no man's land? and the answer is terrible, as he should've known it would be. a desert planet with binary suns, a hard place full of hard people with only bad and worse choices. he feels the ugly and the beautiful, the sacrifices: rem, wolfwood. the hope vash clings to, and it inspires a short-lived glimmer of — rue, maybe. wouldn't that be nice, if vash were right?

and then it's over, and not over. the connection between the two of them still blazes, leaves them open and vulnerable to one another; but the transfer is done. cassian feels calmer, quieted, the balance between meridian and zenith energies tilting towards the moonlight.

he breathes out, and then he opens his eyes. ]

If we survive this, [ finally, ] I'll owe you that drink.

[intervener]

[ Cassian's eyes open, and he'll quickly find Vash's hand at his wrist as if it were as good as a physical cuff preventing him from going and getting himself free. and for a beat - just a beat, a single pulse of a squeezed heartbeat in their chests - there is a very poignant and stabbing sense of grief that lingers between them. it's hard to tell who it belongs to... or if it's something dredged up from both of them. Vash wishes things were different for Cassian, sees things all too clearly from his perspective--

and Cassian wishes he could see things through Vash's rose-tinted glasses of idealism and hope.

but the moment comes and passes quickly. whether it is old instinct or a conscious effort to put a thorough and rigid clamp down on the tether of unfettered emotions, it becomes a bit more blanketed, veiled, obscure,

and then Vash is fumbling his own Shard into his lap to reach out and in an immensely childish gesture,

pinch Cassian's nose shut. ]

You're gonna owe me a hell of a lot more than a drink, Cassian. Really?! THIS is how I gotta find out about your name?! AND you let me ask you twenty questions about why you were wanted to Harmonize to the Zenith when you knew this would happen, didn't you?!

[diversionist]

[ the most fleeting of moments of understanding, of grief. and then —

with his free hand, cassian grabs vash's other wrist to get that hand the hell away from his face. a bright flash of irritation as he says, ]

You got your answers, didn't you?

[intervener]

That's not the point!

[ he lets his hand be tugged free of Cassian's face-- only to replace it with the other, switching which is grabbing what. ]

And that's not how friends treat other friends, or didn't you know that already?!

[ haha no take-backs on that he's a ~~~friend~~~ now, gross lmao cooties, teehee ]

[diversionist]

[ he ducks backwards, actually, as soon as his wrist is freed — maybe anticipating this second attempted reach for his face. he will grab for it with his free hand, too, because jfc.

impatiently, ]

I only said that so you'd agree.

[ a lie, and also not a lie. ]

We're done here.

[intervener]

[ Vash starts pushing his weight into the hand that was caught attempting to grabby-fingies at Cassian's face, doing his best to manuever himself... closer...... to his target, ]

Do I look done to you??

[diversionist]

[ don't make him bite your fingers, man. ]

Yeah, you do.

[intervener]

You don't get to go and just decide that!

[ if he sounds about 110% genuinely annoyed, their shared state of an empathic bond will sadly betray only about 10% of this is actual, real annoyance. very sadly. ]

You beam a bunch of Meridian at me and leave?! No apology for giving me a fake name or tricking me, nothing?

[diversionist]

Nothing.

[ — is agreed so easily, whatever he might be feeling from vash through their connection. and if he isn't as calm as his voice, he is calmer than before, cool waters of zenith coursing in his veins.

and vash can feel it, can't he? how small these accusations are. a fake name; a harmless trick. not a true betrayal. not a murder of someone vash loves, or attempted; not a lie to him about that. not using him for any greater purpose. no intentions to take his life. so much horror, never paid for. next to that, this is only a drop. ]

[intervener]

[ that irritation ticks upward to 15%, but the reason Why isn't because of Cassian's answer as much as what that answer insinuates... it isn't like Vash minds being tricked or lied to about menial matters like a name - or even that their motivations would be spilled out in a messy Communion-bond (though a head's up would've, admittedly, been nice).

and so he's leaning further in, now, cheating with his left prosthetic hand - stronger than his right when he is lacking innate Plant cheat codes - to nab at Cassian's nose again to tweak it. ]

You could at least pretend to look at least a little admonished...

[ not that THAT really matters, either!!!! ]

[diversionist]

[ he throws both of vash's hands down, using the momentum to push himself backwards again. and then he looks at vash, frowning, and shoots back, ]

Why don't you say what's really bothering you? We both know you can't lie to me right now.

[ which goes, you know, both ways. ]

[intervener]

[ huff... HUFF!! okay, make it 18% irritated just because Cassian had to go and say that part out loud.

at least Vash has decided to stop going at his face, folding his arms poutily over his chest for a good sulk instead. ]

Maybe I don't like being used, you ever think of that?

[ nope not that either ]

[diversionist]

[ cassian's eyebrows lift, disbelieving, and he breathes out. then he goes to stand, straightening his coat. ]

Yeah, sure. [ a nod, sardonic. ] Good thing I won't be your problem anymore, huh?

[ trade completed, after all. vash will remain meridian, as he wanted; as cassian wanted to help him do. cassian will harmonize zenith before all of this is over, and vash knows why. they aren't two (relatively) new arrivals at the tree anymore. ]

[intervener]

You'll always be my problem.

[ Vash mumbles it petulantly under his breath, and yet:

that is, apparently, true, ]

Turns out I kinda like you, God knows why. Must be 'cause you're a looker. [ nope ] That's all you've got going for you. [ wrong ]

[diversionist]

[ he's quiet for a moment. on the cusp of leaving, drawn back only by the flecks of truth he can feel through communion, through the bond they created. it's such a stupid thing for a man like cassian andor to want the truth from someone, and yet —

finally, he exhales. it's no less vehement, if less expressly annoyed, when he answers, ]

I won't apologize for the choices I've made. If they let me tear down the Empire, I won't have any regrets.

[ well, he'll have regrets; he has regrets he brought into kenos with him. but seeing the war through — now, that's a cause that's worth it. ]

[intervener]

[ Vash's expression evens out some from the put-upon haughtiness that was (mostly) for show; his eyes slide to Cassian from his periphery as he retrieves his Shard from his lap. ]

Of course you will.

[ have regrets. not just the kind he brought into Kenos, either. ]

It's never that easy. You already know that.

[ that 'price' they'd discussed, right? ]

[diversionist]

[ it is only because of what they just did for each other, that vash gets an answer at all. clear as day, it ripples between them: cassian's immediate, reflexive thought.

what do i have left to lose?

aloud, though, cassian only regards him without speaking. and then, after a moment, turns on his heel to leave. they are done here. ]

[intervener]

[ Vash lets him go.

maybe he was arrested by that unbidden thought that comes through clear as noonday skies, or maybe the wind has been taken out of his sails by the sentiment. it isn't fair, the way those words strike a chord somewhere deep in his core, resonating in ways and places he knows Cassian never could've meant them to. but they do.

he replaces his Shard, quietly drawing his knees loosely toward his chest. unlike Cassian's reply, Vash's remains for him and him alone, and the silence suddenly seems deafening. ]