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Entry tags:
- !event,
- baroque: koriel xii (dextera),
- bastard!!: dark schneider,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- ennead: set,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fire emblem: byleth eisner,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- genshin impact: tartaglia (childe),
- genshin impact: zhongli,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- made in abyss: bondrewd,
- magnus archives (the): the archivist,
- marvel: gamora,
- oc: liem talbott,
- star wars: cassian andor,
- star wars: jyn erso,
- trigun maximum: vash the stampede
The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle
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.
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?
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…
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…
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.
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!!
cws: sa, slavery, forced amputations
Everything gets so jumbled. She sees him as a boy in the lap of what looks like a mother, as a man with his comrades, and yet beneath the images that should inspire warmth... she can feel the desperation screaming beneath it, the clawing, the struggling, the discomfort with what Meridian energies have wrought in his body.
But Zenith has done its own damage in hers. Where Meridian has tried to sway Amos with all the good that he'd had in his world, Zenith has tried to break Hayame with all the bad that didn't deserve saving. The stables where jinba were bred, captured, and broken to the saddle and bit. A young girl staring from a distance at a dead-eyed armless woman with the same black hair and dun coloring being led to the breeding post, the chosen stallion following after. Fires flickering on the edges of a banquet where a fat, rich lord puffs and groans, pleasuring himself with the pliant mouth of a prospective purchase. Orphaned children of the jinba hunts who barely knew what a parent was. A newly captured jinba screaming around the bit as it's arms are cut from its body, turning a proud, independent creature into a shell that cannot bathe, feed, or care for itself.
And the doubts come with it. She rails against the unfairness of it all, the disgrace of what had become of her. Was that world worth saving? Even if she succeeded in her own quest to save that one village, those few orphans, what did it matter for the rest of the jinba still suffering under the yolk of humanity? What was the point if she'd already failed, if she had to die just to accomplish that one little thing? Wouldn't it be better to remake the whole thing... ?
Hayame keeps her own gaze locked on their hands, the smear of blood-sap over gems and flesh, her fingers tightening and her expression strained. She could not allow herself to doubt, to let the despair creep into the cracks in her hearts, and yet... Zenith had crept in anyway.
If he'll just take it away--]
cw references to csa, prostitution
Springstar fades the longer they grasp one another's souls, the longer their blood presses up against them, instead taken over by.
Amos' eyes flutter shut as he cooly exhales, tipping his head back.
Because the things he's seeing from Hayame are objectively horrible. He's been that mouth before. He's resided among orphans. My mom, too, he thinks at the impression of Hayame's mom being led away to be fucked, an accidental thought rising to the surface in the moment. It's not quite the same, but the gist of it is. Another thing to have in common. Another vulnerability exposed.
And yet it all seems so meaningless in the moment, pales in comparison to what he's really getting from this.
Because as Amos starts to find himself getting lost in Hayame's memories, the content isn't what he's drawn to. They are horrible; they are hell; he cannot think of anybody he would ever wish such things upon. But more than that... they bring clarity. The Zenith gracing these memories brings with it the sense of finality, the knowledge that everything will come to an end, and there is peace in that. He lets himself fall back into it, be surrounded by it, let it embrace him once again.
This world was hell, and it is no more, and that brings with it a refreshing balm. It's everything he's been missing since afflicted with Meridian, since experiencing a futile desperation for things that are dead and gone and not coming back. His lips part and his fingers scrabble for a grip against Hayame's, digging in almost painfully with the force of gratitude he needs to communicate to her for giving him this again. For letting him feel like himself again.
As he slowly soaks up more of the Zenith within her — more, it's a drug, it's relaxing and cooling and one of the most beautiful things he's ever felt, especially compared to the past few days — Amos' eyes flutter back open, his head righting itself as he seeks her own gaze out. He could kiss her. He could do anything she asks of him, as long as she keeps giving him this.
As long as she takes away the pain he doesn't know how to feel, frees him from constantly trying to reach out for a past that will never come back. ]
no subject
Because-
Amos memories, or perhaps it is more accurate to say the Meridian energies that shape them, feel so bracing and sure. She has nothing quite like them for herself. Her dam had been an Armless broodmare, and she hadn't possessed the hands to stroke her hair or hold her even if she'd wanted to. Through the similarities they accrue, unlike Amos, Hayame had not escaped her fate years ago and left it behind for a new life. She'd had a brief month in which she had slowly learned that perhaps she could be free, that perhaps there was a way to survive outside of the only system she'd ever known... and then she had been here. The shackles are still heavy in her mind.
But the warmth of Meridian soothes over the cracks in her hearts when it returns to her from Amos. (Could she have those things, like he'd had, if she returned to her world and found a way to survive instead of dying as she had promised? Would she be able to know years of a life away from the breeding stables, amidst her own kind, eventually finding people who would call her ally, companion, or friend?) It covers the doubts and reminds her... her world is out there somewhere. She has to get back to it or she'd never know what she might could have. Even if it ended in the fiery explosion she had promised, at least those orphans might know the life she never had or could, her honor would be cleansed...
Her hands tighten in turn over his, heedless of the potential pain in either of their grips. His soul is in her hand and hers in his, and the sap their blood has become smears sticky and viscous in between. She can feel him so closely, in the bond created by their trade, one that urges her just to stay in his company, with someone who is seeing her, who she is giving unto and receiving in return.
Their gaze meets again, and the cold fury that usually dwells in her one remaining eye has been temporarily quenched. Her expression is vulnerable and raw, her doubts warmed by Meridian just as his reaching was cooled by Zenith, and her lips part... but nothing comes out. She swallows, tries to force them out even though she doesn't rightly know what words they'll even become. Right now...]
Don't let go.
[Not yet. Even if they had nothing left they could trade... She had missed how it felt when he held her hand.]
cw references to death, suicide
[ His voice is a soft exhale, half here in the moment, half so intimately with her in a way beyond bodies, all with Zenith. More and more as time passes, as they continue to grip one another. There's no need for it to be as strong as it is, but what else would he do in this moment but hold tight and never let go? She's a lifeline.
She's practically kin.
Amos can't tighten his grip any more than he already has; what he can do is look into her eye, the curve of her face, her neck, down to her arms outstretched to reach his, and step forward. Slowly, and telegraphed, but close the gap between the two of them, bring their presences that much closer. Because being inside one another's heads — or is it souls — is one thing, but he's always operated much better on the physical plane, so the closer the better. Even if he can't let go, can't disrupt the way they're holding both of their souls together...
He looks back up at her, something awed in his expression — and for once, not because of the grace Zenith is bestowing upon him once again. It's a deeper understanding of her — because yeah, they know one another, a little more than either one of them would like, but he's yet to comprehend why Hayame would be Meridian.
Why anyone would be, really, but Hayame? A hopemonger? If anything, she should be— ]
I can get that. Going back for kids. [ He speaks in hushed tones, a private conversation between two of them in the shadows, and not wanting to broadcast such a sentiment at all. For his sake. For hers. ] That'd be a good thing to do.
[ But they're already dead, he can't stop himself from thinking. It's supposed to be just for himself, not communed to her, but considering the sensitivities they have towards one another when like this...
Normally, his stomach would churn at the thought of those kids Hayame would go back to already being dead, but here, with Zenith flowing through him more and more, it doesn't occur to him. Because: Amos is used to death. His mom died when he was young. One of his friends committed suicide when he wasn't that much older. People died on the streets of Baltimore day after day after day, some he knew, most he didn't; death as much a part of life as life itself, and so he'd learned to accept it. Embrace it when he had to. Because doing anything else was foolish, futile, a good way to get yourself killed — or invite more and more and more pain on top of what was already there.
So why do anything but move forward and never look back? And as the Meridian leaves him, he knows he'll be safe again. ]
cw; suicide
A dun foreleg slowly uncurls, moving as if to reach out and brush against a leg. He'd liked that- before. But she hesitates, and the edge of a hoof barely grazes against his trousers.
Hopemongers, she had labeled Meridian to him the first time they'd met at the edges of that pool full of memories. She despised it so, when it came from blindness or ignorance, but in her case... Going back for the kids, he says, and shame lances through her hearts. Can she claim that is all she wants? She wants it, that is true, for in those children who had a chance to live freely as she hadn't, but atop of that- He thinks they are dead. Of course he does. All of the Zenith believe that it is gone, but she can't-]
It is all my fault.
[She shouldn't be saying that, either. Something she has never shared with anyone, but now, when their communions blend together like something seamless, when he brings her mind to her students, that hidden village full of war orphans. Orphans that she, once... before she had realized there might be a way out of it all, when she had still been committed to loyalty to the man who'd had her dam bred to produce her-]
I was entrusted with them, by someone who put their trust in me, yet I am to blame for them being in danger.
[She had told him what she had been used for. Hunting her own kind, controlling the Armless, tricked into thinking that she was better than them, that she was somehow different-]
If I do not save them... What is there left to do but slit my own belly open?
[How can she do what he does? How can she just believe that they are all dead, when their deaths would mean honor dictated she should join them? How can she simply move forward into a content life as a Zenite and never look back on her failures... ?]
no subject
His gaze — his heart — softens at those mental images of tiny horse-children, happy and healthy and living the way kids should, the way neither of them got to. Doesn't really change, even as she details the circumstances of her pain. Because he understands her — but he also understands now that's what Meridian brings. Pain. ]
Hey. [ Without any other options available to him he lifts their entwined hands — the ones with his soul in between them; if he was trying anything here, it wouldn't be with it in the way — and nuzzles her hand when it's within reach. Looks back up at her. ] That's one way of looking at it. Can't do anything if you're dead, though. Not for them. Not for the ones who'll come after.
[ They're dead, but there'll be more later. In a new world. Where nobody will be treated the way they were growing up, he's pretty sure, Zenith singing to him.
He gives her a small, rueful smile. ]
You should probably be coming with me. [ With Zenith. ] I'd bring you back with me if I could, but...
[ But she's absorbing his
painMeridian so he never has to go through that again. The whole thing is rather counterintuitive, and he can't help but give Hayame an almost apologetic laugh.She understands him. He understands her. And it's for those reasons that he wants to save her — and can't.
Not here, at least, but maybe later; and how's that for hope. ]
no subject
He lifts their hands. The movement arrests her attention. It makes the words stand out all the stronger. Words that sound like... words that man might have said to her. The one who had pulled her from the waterfall she'd tried to throw them off and instead of condemning her asked if she wouldn't take students and train the young ones in archery. The one who had pointed out the shameful truth of how relieved she'd been to be saved... and who had asked her a question that had begun to change everything.
Don't you want to live in a world where it's alright to be happy about that?
Now Amos reminds her that the dead cannot do anything for anyone and she knows, she knows but... Hayame's expression grows thoughtful and raw as she processes what he says, that he thinks she should come back with him, and if it had come from any other person she would have torn into them for the presumption, the gall, but he... Her hand twitches against his cheek where he had nuzzled. Two fingers curl away from the desperate press of their hands on shards so that she might rub along the line of his jaw, over that barbaric beard of his. Maybe there is Zenith yet hiding in her hearts, lurking somewhere in too high an amount to be given away to just one other. If she could blame that for these treacherous thoughts...
Her lips curl up in the corners just enough to almost possibly count as a smile. One that is sad, and tired, and hates herself for even considering the possibility but she needs to know-]
... What sort of world would you create, Amos?
[If that Yima woman was actually right. If Zenith took from them every Oracle they needed to remake the worlds they claimed were gone.
If Hayame herself failed (again), like she did now in letting her hearts waver enough to even dignify asking a Zenite what they planned to do with the power they might some day supposedly help wield. But with him, with this strange thing between them, the invitation he'd laid out at her hooves knowing full well that she could not take it...
She needs to know. Wants to.]
no subject
Not sure. Didn't think that'd ever be my job. [ He is ready, in his entirety, to turn over any portion or say he has to Yima — because he knows people like him can't be trusted, but people like her can. It'd be the responsible thing to do.
But with Zenith flowing through his veins again, recementing itself in his neural network, inspiration comes a lot easier. Almost like it's natural, and his eyes slip shut as he tries to picture it, to bring it to life with words. ]
One with wide open spaces. Enough for everyone to have what they need; space for them to grow food and have shelter and be with their people. With fresh air and clean water... [ He would've been happy with just that, wouldn't he? He'd been in a good place where he originally came from, but after more than a year of living planet-side, being able to enjoy its resources on a daily basis... ] Somewhere everyone could live. I had a friend who had trouble with gravity. It'd have been nice if she could stay down on a planet with us.
[ An inadvertent mental image of Amos with one of the women from earlier. He doesn't expect her to come back, but... still. If that could've been an option for her. ]
I think if everyone got the chance to be self-sufficient... Live off the land, raise their kids, be in good health, want for nothing. I think that'd be nice.
[ Simple, and inconceivable to him, considering the overpopulated place he came from where it was so easy to fall through the cracks and never re-emerge. Some kind of agrarian society. That's enough to sound like heaven to him. What more would anyone need than that? ]
no subject
The bubble might burst. The tether of shared energy between them might finally snap. And she doesn’t want… she wishes…
Hayame doesn’t really remember how to smile. The corners of her lips feel strained, as if unused to such a position, trying to remember when the last time she had done it fully, properly, had been. When her brother had handed her the arrows he’d made before their last mission… ? Months and months and worlds ago. But the image Amos conjures up…
That village of orphans would have been like that, if she hadn’t come to it. If she hadn’t ruined everything. Those children would have grown up and had children of their own. They farmed the land, gathered from the forest, hunted in the mountains… it had been a simple life, but they could have been happy like that. If they’d been able to avoid the fires of war and the greed of humans intent on power… they’d have had parents, too. They wouldn’t have had to run and hide.
Hayame swallows. Her fingers slow on the rub along his cheekbone, but they don’t stop. The half-smile on her face grows a bit more like a real one, even if it’s bittersweet and full of knowing… this was just a dream. If she believes in this, she has to believe her own world is gone… and she can’t let herself do that.]
I can’t say I ever pictured you as a farmer.
[Her voice is quiet. Reflective. Doing him the service of trying to imagine it, even if it is a dream she cannot allow to happen. If it even could happen.]
I guess it’s not so hard to picture, though…
[A world full of… well, his just had humans, didn’t it. There wouldn’t be any place for people like her. It would be silly to even ask-]
I don’t suppose there would be a place for someone like me… ?
[A jinba or a warrior or a slave that tried to be free… she doesn’t say. She’s going to die in her own world where she belongs or a demon or someone else she’s made an enemy of will shatter her shard in this one. … It doesn’t matter.]
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Especially when she looks, feels, acts like this. It's a throwback to some months ago, grumpy and pained centaur gone, instead replaced with a friend. An actual one. One he still has, despite his everything. He huffs a little laugh at the idea of him as a farmer — wouldn't have thought it for himself, either — eyes still shut in a pleasant waking dream; his smile a little dopey at the image she conjures up of young jinba going about the lives they'd both wish for them. ]
Don't see why not. [ Why couldn't there be room for Hayame there? (He knows why, from her background and what it means; but things like that aren't going to matter there. Don't matter to him most of the time, because he'd had the privilege of being able to shed his background and have nobody recognize him for what he'd been on sight alone, but... still. At least his heart's in the right place.) ] Might be an issue if you ever wanted to go to space, but if there were more people like you then that'd be incorporated in the ship designs. Shit, I'll figure it out myself if I'm still around when we get to that point.
[ Jinba, he assumes she means. Would there be room for jinba in his ideal world, and yeah. Sure. He'd find a way to make it work, no problem.
His eyes are lidded as he looks back up at her, content and happy and feeling as pleasant in her company as he ever has in anyone's. ]
It can be your world as much as mine.
[ You really should be a Zenite. With me. ]
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With the bond fast and fresh between their shards, she even almost thinks that maybe he'd been sincere, when he called her a friend. She almost thinks that maybe they could be that, despite the fact that they might need to kill each other for the sake of their goals. But down here, in the dark with only a faint, soft glow...
Her half-smile almost makes it all the way to a full one.]
If you managed to figure it out, I suppose I would have to honor your efforts and try going to space.
[If she was indulging in a fantasy this grand, this impossible... why shouldn't it be one where she isn't completely terrified by the idea that the night sky was a huge, empty expanse of black and stars? She'd been raised believing that the stars were the lights of the heavenly field of gods, not a place that mortals might ever tread.
But what he said next... her smile falters. Her expression softens, turning inward, and she knows... She knows she shouldn't be indulging in this. She had sworn that she would be the most stalwart Meridian of them all to make up for the weaklings among them, that she would kill whoever she had to... but there is just enough Zenith energy left lurking in her hearts to whisper what if you lose? What if you lose this Oracle, and the next one, and the next... And if that happened, if there came a time when she had to face the possibility of never being able to return to her world where she belonged...
Her voice is quiet when she finds it again.]
... Will you save a place for me?
[If Meridian's cause was lost, if she only came to him in the final hour...]
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Happy, in this dark and dead underground filled with nothing, because he shares an intimate understanding with one of his people, where they are able to meet each other halfway and in all likelihood both be better off for it.
Just happy, to the extent that he's capable of — which, as it turns out, is a fair bit.
Even as Hayame finds her doubts once again, and hey. He gets it. They're talking about something far off down the line; something that very well may never happen. So his expression softens in kind, his head bobbing slightly. Giving her permission to let go, if she wants. Or to keep going if she wants, too. Both are good with him, as long as she's also happy — because he thinks, for at least a moment, she was there right along with him. ]
Of course.
[ There's no hesitation in his answer. No doubt. Because when it happens, he will keep a place for her. If he has to kill her one day, he'll bring her along with him. One way or another, he'll make it happen — for her. ]
Whenever you're ready. I've got you.
[ And despite all of his own shittiness, he really has no reason to lie here. To betray her on that front.
It's as real a promise as can be made. ]
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It is like a light, rather than the abyss of black she so often attributed to Zenith and its followers. For a moment... she basks in it.
And while their shards are at peace with each other, while the exchange of energies has made it so much easier to feel him... she lets herself believe that she isn't a traitor just for asking him the question that she had. For feeling relief when he says he will accept her, even if she only comes to him when she feels there is not a single ounce of hope left for a Meridian victory. Even if she wants her world back, even if she cannot even begin to think whose shard she would end up shamefully begging that Yima woman for, torn between her (half) blood brother and the man who had offered her a life lived free she regretted struggling to believe in...
Her fingers drop from his cheek and slide along the line of his jaw, slowly falling. She relinquishes her own shard fully into his hand so that she might take his fully into hers... and slip under the hem of his shirt so that she might carefully return it to where it belonged, nestled just above his heart. Later, a certain war god will demand she kill this man in exchange for what she demands of him... but she returns his vulnerable soul to him instead.]
... Let's stay just a little longer.
[Here in the depths of the tunnel, as far away from the main chamber and the chaotic press of bleeding communions and mingling voices as they could physically get...]
It's quiet here...
[And there will not be much more quiet to be had.]
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Can't begrudge a contingency plan, though. (Especially not one for a situation he wants to come to pass.)
Amos dips his head slightly in attempt to follow Hayame's movements as she returns his soul to him, whole once again. His fingers lightly curly around hers, holding it safe in the palm of his hand as he waits for her to finish. The way she handles it, he feels safe. Nothing bad can, will happen as long as she's holding it, as long as she's giving it back to him like this. At least not here, not in this moment.
And when she's done, and when she speaks, he lifts his head to her, his gaze soft. Silently, he extends her shard to her; without his gravity powers returned to him, he has no way to reciprocate the favour she just afforded him. (Might not actually want him to, the way things had gone last time he'd had access to that part of her body, but that's a moot point since he physically can't reach it anyway.) And his eyes crinkle a little. ]
Quiet's good.
[ They can stay here a little longer. Until the feeling fades, until their attention is called away elsewhere... whatever it is, but they've no reason to disrupt this moment of peace they've successfully cultivated for themselves now. ]
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In quiet like this, she can pretend that she is a survivor through to the core, to the very end, and not a woman who has sworn to give up her life for the sake of cleansing her honor and saving the orphans she had wronged before a single day passes in her own world. If she can ever return to it. But even knowing that... she had fought to survive the breeding stables. She had fought to survive until her sale. She had fought (just not hard enough) to believe in a future where she might be free. She now fought to survive here, for victory, for-
For her to put aside the pride and the defenses she had honed living in a world where her body was not her own. She did not so easily allow anyone to touch her because every Exhibition Day everyone touched her- or at least, everyone who was interested in potentially buying her. Even her seasonal heats she viciously suppressed and instead tortured herself with painful, useless abstinence... until her failed attempts at regaining her agency at the World's Edge. But...
... She preferred it when they were even.
With a rustle of dry vines that now ran through her long hair, Hayame bends down just slightly, narrowing the foot and a few inches that she has on him. Instead of snatching her shard from his hand and reclaiming it... this way, she can draw the layers of her kimono-like top enough apart that it bares the place on her sternum just below her breasts where her shard is meant to rest.
As if it were some sort of pact, or perhaps just proof of their understanding in this moment... She waits, her halved gaze softer than she should allow it to be.]
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And instead, his eyes widen and eyebrows raise slightly as she exposes herself to him. Not all that much. Nothing like before, at World's Edge. But something even more intimate in a way he cannot understand, because it's where her very being is supposed to rest, and he can easily follow her wordless command — request? — for him to reunite her with herself. Kind of like how she took the initiative in doing that for him, but here she's still taking it.
So, expression resetting, he stands up on his tip toes, leans forward. Every little bit to meet her as much as he can, right? Every little bit to pull his weight in all of this. She's done something monumental for him, after all.
Amos meets her eye before placing his hand over her, her shard back where it belongs. Lets it linger for a second too long before pulling back, never once breaking her gaze.
They're even. Equals.
He is happy, and content, and pleasantly cool and at peace, and shares it all with her through the air between them, in the soft and silent tunnel they've been able to claim for themselves. ]