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

Akua Sahelian | Meridian | Iconoclast (eyy!!)

[wolof]

✶ Hex-ploration

[ Springstar is a wasteland. Supplies are few and far between. What exists is either spoiled, dust, or merely destroyed. Either from the force of a crumbling structure or otherwise. Though some homes seem to have weathered it, and Akua has found that she can put something together in the approximate place of her own home. It is in the same place, and perhaps if she were to wipe away the dust and grime of the rotted wall-hangings and curtains, she may find that it is still hers.

There is no time for it, and within the crumbling walls and miraculously still-present ceilings, Akua Sahelian opens the windows and doors, and begins to work. There is no water to speak of, but the Praeis is used to living in a desert. She covers her head with a magically washed cloth, and summons water to start filling jugs and bowls. She has no Walin-Falme to seek others out, so it is only on their own merit that the would find refuge in her home, but if they are an ally Akua knows -- they may receive an errant communion in the first day -- 'Find my home if you need shelter. I have water.' Her magic was spotty, but she tried it occasionally, to attempt to summon more, to ensure there was enough for survival. If you join her, she will greet you with an outstretched hand, with water offered to quench thirst. ]

✶ Rooted

[ On the second day, she can feel the errant tug. That pull toward the tree, and so she follows it, knowing full well that it could mean death for her. The longer time passes, the less her gift works, and by the time she nears the tree, she can feel it fully whittled away and gone. Like someone had reached out and tugged the magic she held so dear off from her, like sheets of her soul had been peeled back, and harvested, and all that was left was something dark, and sinister in its place. She was Prasei, it was not as if she did not welcome and accept the darkness in all of its forms, but this is different. This feels like the sickening slide of an insidious madness that she'd once held so dear. The promise of power, of glory and destruction. She had once promised to reign it down upon the world. She had once promised that she would destroy Praes if she could not rule it, and she had made her madness manifest.

It feels like that once again. In communion there is guilt so thick it feels like it rolls off the woman in waves. She could never seek redemption, it would never happen. Had she been so foolish as to rope herself in to eternally chasing something she would never find? There's resentment baked in, too, thought it's not clear to whom it's directed. Whether its herself, or someone else -- or both, but she breathed in and out, her hands clenched at her sides, occasionally, the Praesi Sorceress would stand, and pace back and forth, as if the nervous energy would do something to resolve the pangs of frustration, anger, guilt building in her. She thinks of something better than creation, and hates herself for it. She thinks of her lost worlds, and feels the pang of grief that waves through communion, before she spirals again. It's loud, her pain, her frustration and disgust, and though she knows it is, she cannot help but continue her pacing -- she cannot stop the spiral, and the longer it goes, the worse she becomes.

Perhaps distraction will work? ]

✶ Su-purge-stitions

[ The longer it goes, the more she feels something in between rage and despair bubbling within her, pushing out from her in waves. Akua Sahelian had always been a controlled woman, but she was also a villainess whose own madness and destruction had ended her life once. It was only the thought that she would be a jailer -- I'm not asking you to; I wouldn't have, if you would have asked -- a path toward redemption was a path without end. She knew that. She had accepted it, but the despair that came with it settled in her heart.

She was teetering closer and closer to falling, yet again. It was that reminder, that falling might come once more, that it was ever only one misstep away. She had chosen her path, the knife Catherine had plunged in her belly the moment they'd finally -- finally -- kissed, had cemented it. She had held locked the bronze bracelet onto her wrist, and though her skin looked ever-wooden, the bracelet glittered in dim light from the mosses, a bronze working, that had snapped on with a finality that reminded her of who she was.

What she was. She was Calamity, the will of Below, a restraining hand that would force villains to stay within the constraints, lest they be forced to fall to the Providence over and over again. The winds had been too strong, for too long, because of the Hidden Horror, and she knew that if she were to fall, accept Zenith, she would be turning away from her promise and her path.

So why did it feel so easy, even now?

Why did she want it? ]

✶ Wildcard!
[ Do whatever! Akua will also be exploring the cities, and I'm truly always down for just random starters, or if we've planned something and they don't work, please feel free to hmu, and I'll write you something -- or you can just throw me something! ]

su-purge-stitions!!

[oomfies]

[ Lottie has made it a point to keep her face, herself, hidden, despite the fact the lot of them are packed so intimately together in this gaudy (is it gaudy? It feels extra, the amount of muck and dirt and lack of good quality air) chamber they're all stuck in. For the most part, she's managed to deal with her Meridian itch by herself, only mildly plagued by her thoughts and a strange sensation twisting at her chest. But after some hours by herself, she can't handle it. Can't stand to stay by her lonesome, so she wanders as quietly she can. As stealthily as she can.

Lottie does not look like herself, looks paler, sicker, more like the self she wakes up to than the one she presents to the world. But at the moment, she only marginally cares. Can only find herself worrying over opinions for a moment before she spots someone familiar, someone she's been vaguely wondering about— Akua. She's looking just as down bad as she does, thank god, but with a more.. Bark-y quality to her? She can't even judge, her own head dappled with flowers that sprinkle pollen down at her every chance, every nudge, they get.

It means her nose is budding red when she hesitantly closes the distance with Akua, unsure of where they stand with all the chaos meddling her thoughts, her perception of herself. She's not even sure if she can (is allowed) to reach out for a hand, just to feel something that isn't her own drying skin (woodening? Is that the word? She'll ponder over this the next time she hides by herself,) and in the end she ambles by her side.

Close enough to let it be known that she wants Akua to know she is there, but far enough to give her the opportunity to not acknowledge her, if she so desires. ]

[wolof]

[ Though she struggles with it -- that far too well-fitting glove that is Zenith's energies, Akua had been doing something similar to Lottie, without the hiding. She had been sitting alone. She had not sought anyone out, and she certainly hadn't reached out yet. She was only here, with her old guilt, the promise that Meridian had whispered had been something too good to be true, or so Zenith tried to convince her of it now.

Lottie sat down next to her, and Akua wondered. What would be the reason. Was it because she was Zenith? No, Lottie had not seemed... quite so underhanded. Perhaps conniving enough, but not underhanded enough to try and trick her, and when she looked at her, head tipped, her fingers wooden and stiff, clenched into her own dress, when she tried to appraise her, or at least try to figure out why?

But perhaps there needed little more reason, than the fact that they were all struggling with it. It. The energies of something they had all perhaps already weighed and measured, all already chosen -- or tried to -- and she sighed after a moment, and swallowed. ]

I had not anticipated fighting for what I believe in, when even my own mind wars against me. [ She said, with a small, tight smile. ]

Do you struggle as well?

[oomfies]

[ In a way, Lottie wishes she was underhanded. A schemer, of sorts. But no, there's nothing particularly nefarious about the way she's put herself within Akua's bubble. Maybe that alternative would be easier to deal with than this one, the one she wants, the one that's always particularly rough: talking out feelings. Because she has so many that it's overwhelming, grips her chest particularly hard when she's existing, grips her even harder at her question. ]

On my own? Uh, yeah. [ She says after a beat, something like mirth trying to dance its way into her voice (it doesn't work). ] But right now? Yup.. Yes.

[ There's a pause, where she opens her lips then closes them. She can't help but think of all the other times they've met, how normal and safe they are in comparison to this. The both of them looking and feeling particularly haggard, trapped in some stupid event that always happens to them. ]

It feels like I'm constantly overthinking things but, way worse than usual. You know?

[wolof]

I know.

[ She admits, because she is too. Every errant thought, every time she tries to think of her convictions, of why she felt such conviction to Meridian, it is like every thought wars with her, and tries to fight her. She thinks that every stray thought will be a fight, and she's left with more questions than answers every. Single. Time.

Her nearly-wooden hands clench into her dress. ]

I find that every time I think of what keeps me on my path, I am found with a dozen reasons why not. Even the promises that I once made are...found lacking. [ It's easier, than she would have thought, to admit this to anyone. It's easier to silence the questioning tones from Catherine as well, when she thinks of her. ]

I don't know how we can survive this, when even our thoughts are traitors, Lottie. I do not know how to hold fast to what we promised ourselves, let alone others.

[ And then she asks something soft, almost surprised by herself when she asks it: ] Do you?

rooted

[diversionist]

[ her pain is loud.

and that would be enough to get cassian's attention, even in this crowded space. but not only is her pain loud, but her guilt is of a familiar tenor. it meets, matches, resonates with his own, intertwines with the strength of their iconoclast connection. his guilt lives as a constant undercurrent to his presence, his thinking; the knowledge that he has crossed too many lines and taken too many lives and gone too far beyond the pale to ever hope for redemption. the inherent knowledge that he is cruel, is beyond saving. he hears her pain, and he understands it.

he struggles, too, with the competing energies of meridian and zenith. the burning sun, and the freezing moonlight, coursing like sap through his veins. he feels powerful pangs of longing for people and places gone; he feels endless waves of self-recrimination for his crimes; he struggles with anger and despair in equal measure. he runs pale, exhaustion clear in the lines of his face, hair rumpled and sticking to the back of his neck.

but he's drawn to the cacophony of her misery. he telegraphs his approach, raising a hand to her forearm with a gentle, ]

Hey.

[ an attempt at being gentle, anyway, voice soft. kindness doesn't come to him easily, but he tries. ]

Take a breath.

[wolof]

[ Akua almost drew back in alarm -- her eyes wide, and in communion, it's telegraphed: kindness is an odd thing to her -- but it's after a moment, that she nodded, and raised a hand to almost wave his hand away. It is not that she is averse to touch -- quite the opposite -- but the surprise at gentleness is something that could only be described as cultural to Akua Sahelian, who lives a life so cruel that she consumes antivenoms and antitoxins before she even attends a function.

She whetted her lips. ]

Thank you, dear, I will be fine. [ She will not be, but it's a protective armor that she erects over herself in that moment. The need to protect her wounds and keep the weak spots from sight. It's Praesi through and through, though "Melshi" likely does not know of that. ]

I'm afraid that Zenith knows precisely where to aim its knife.

[diversionist]

[ he pauses when she seems like she might reel back. and when she rejects his hand, he lets it drop without taking offense. some people take boundaries pretty seriously — and he's one, in truth, the standards for people he likes and people he doesn't very different. he has no praesi cultural understanding — in truth, it'd seem paranoid even to him (which says a lot) — but he can respect what people are and aren't willing to share. the existence of cultural norms, whether or not he knows or understands them. impossible not to know how to work with that, living in a galaxy as large as his. ]

It's the same for all of us, [ he says, and manages to make it a commiseration rather than admonition. ] Why don't you sit with me, for a few minutes?

[wolof]

So I've noticed.

[ She said, but nodded at the offer, and sat next to him. It is odd, for her, to feel so weak, so vulnerable. Without her gift, she is left to be just a woman. Even when she had been without her magic before, she had been a shade, dead and unable to be harmed any more than before. And she had a connection to Winter, even though it was through Catherine's control.

It felt... so odd to be without her power. To feel so removed from Meridian, and closer to Zenith. She disliked it, that it still felt so tempting, even has her fingers found the bronze bracelet at her wrist, and she twisted it. A reminder that there was a reason she was Meridian, even though every part of her would have taken Zenith, had she been just... mere days younger. ]

You struggle with it too? I don't think I ever knew what side you had chosen, before. Other than your... rebels. Who plagues you now?

[diversionist]

[ he shifts somewhat to make room for her, give her space to sit comfortably without being too close — from what he's seen of her comfort already. his eyes flick to the bracelet at her nervous gesture, though he doesn't ask. he simply sees; noticing things is, after all, his business.

though she takes him off-guard with her question. stupid, he chides himself a moment later. it's not an unreasonable question, and he knows her for an astute woman, from their previous encounter. he recovers quickly, hitching a smile onto his face as he shrugs. (insincere, of course.) ]

I hadn't. [ then, ] I still haven't picked a side. What I feel is both of them, I think.

[wolof]

Mm, I would have said the same, when I arrived.

[ She admitted. Akua did not spend long without her gift, had chosen a side if only so that she could use her gift once more. She was nothing without it, and even as a shade, she had wrenched power from the ether, used Catherine's connection to Winter, or Night, or anything to make sure she had it. She would do anything, even sign on with a side, just to do so.

Though... why she had chosen Meridian, had been a choice. There was a reason, all the same. She sighed, and looked at her hands in her lap. She does not crowd Cassian, but she takes up space all the same, as she looked down. ]

You will have to choose one, or the other, lest you be left behind by the great and terrible powers we use. There will be no place for those who cannot choose, I fear. Even the stalwart heart who thinks both are guilty of crimes, will need to choose something. Though both... seem to be willing to let us go, as we choose.

Perhaps that will change, but for now at least, your decision can be made freely. Without losing the ability to choose later.

[diversionist]

[ without the question of powers, cassian has had the luxury of taking his time to pick a side. were he a jedi, or force-sensitive, or a witch, or any of the names people have across the galaxy (across the worlds), he would've been hesitant to linger long without the advantage of abilities. he can understand people like dokja and akua, who'd chosen to regain what was lost in that way. ]

I'm not afraid of choosing, [ he says after a moment. ] There's no room in war for spectators. [ he knows. ] This won't be the first time I've had to choose a side, or be collateral damage in someone else's war.

[ though he does give akua a sidewise glance at the last sentiment. ]

I didn't think you were one for platitudes.

[ which is to say: he's heard that no one will stop you from changing sides, but is under the impression it might be functionally impossible. akua doesn't seem the type to suggest he can change his mind later, were that really the case. ]

[wolof]

I am not speaking of platitudes, dear.

[ She said, her tone patient, though there was a look to her face, distance in her golden eyes that left her looking... away. ]

I was a member of Zenith for a time. I had...forgotten, what motivated me toward this path. The things in my past that shape me, and it left me with an obvious path.

I was welcomed among the Zenites, and then I was welcomed again back to Meridian.

[ She waved a hand. ] Let us hope I do not lose my memory again. It was a terrible thing, to take away.

[ Her sin, the greatest of them, was something that so shaped her, that it was a pivot for her entire life, even if she had not known it at the time. ]

[diversionist]

[ he listens with interest.

not just interest — there's compassion in his eyes, as she talks about joining zenith, and then returning back to meridian. about having something vital taken from her, before she got it back. it is a terrible thing, to take away someone's memories. what are any of them without? so many places, people, live only in the memories of the living — now more than ever. and this explains, doesn't it, her loud, familiar pain. he can understand, he thinks, this woman a little better. ]

That's good to know, [ comes first, and then with a slight uptick of one of the corners of his mouth, ] if I ever see you in Zenith, I'll know what happened. And to send you back.

[ not an idle threat, from the man who will later ensure that set leaves this cavern with the meridian. ]

[wolof]

[ Her face is not shocked, but there is an air of gentle surprise in it, the way her mouth opens in a gentle 'o', and the way she looks very nearly taken aback by his statement. It's fervent, and it is... with meaning.

That 'o' transformed into a small smile, as he continued, and she could not help but shake her head. ]

That is very kind of you, though not something I would truly encourage. Without that which motivated me toward Meridian, I am... [ Here, she pursed her lips, and made a soft popping sound, as she considered how to say what she was thinking. Really, dragging out the truth. ]

I would kill any who stood in my way. I still would now, but I know the meaning of restraint. I was... even further into the throes of madness and villainy, when I was younger.

[diversionist]

[ maybe surprisingly, his faint humor only seems to swell, as he listens to her. ]

If you think that would stop me, you don't know me very well.

[ and she doesn't, of course. that's the only reason she would warn him like that. fear of death has not factored into his decisions for a long, long time. he certainly wasn't part of a rebellion because he feared danger, either. not to mention, ]

I can understand believing in something so much, that you would kill for it. [ he wasn't part of a war because his hands were clean, was he? not ever, but especially not now. ] But you're right — it's better not to, when you can.

[wolof]

[ Her smile there, is chilling. ]

Or when your ambitions mean you would tread over all in your path.

[ It was not belief that had motivated a young Akua Sahelian, but ambition. Veneration to the Gods Below was ambition, the pursuit of power. The drive to do more. See more. Experience more. To take all that one could hold, hoard it, use it, and make the very people in your path quake from your power.

That is what Akua Sahelian had been -- still is, in a way -- though softened. She had a line, now. Far though it may be. ]

I would prefer, however, not to make enemies of my fellow shard-bearers, if I can avoid it.

That means you too -- any more than our factions require, at least.

[diversionist]

[ he can understand that, in some ways.

he has never had ambitions for himself, no. he has never wanted to accrue power, gain notoreity, have people know his name. impossible to be that kind of person, and take the life of a spy. his fondest ambition had once been a quiet life, but that had proven impossible; and so he'd desired for the destruction of the empire. ambition, in its own way? maybe. he'd never cared what rank he held in the rebellion; or, rather, he'd only cared about his promotions in that they reflected the work he was putting into it, that the higher rank came with higher access to classified documents and operations, better situated him to get things done.

no one has ever called cassian andor ambitious, but he was ready to eliminate anyone who got in his way. for the greater good, he had no line. he can understand better, now, what in her pain had resonated with him. ]

I feel the same. We're all Bearers, right? Our goals are different, but it seems to me that our situation is the same, no matter which faction we're in.

[wolof]

Yes. And it is not so certain that... hm. We will not unite, in the end.

[ She does not wish to burn bridges, like Hayame (or Silco) does. That is not what she aims for, as she has seen what alienating an enemy does. Hell, she had been the alienated enemy, and she knew what it was to feel... alone. Isolated. Outside of it all.

She is no Catherine Foundling, to forge alliances by simply warping those around her into her wake. By manipulating circumstances and being so convinced that her path is right. No, Akua Sahelian is not that woman, but she can do what she had learned to do from Catherine, and invest. Learn.

Listen, as she had done in Praes, when the people's will pulled from Dread Empress Malicia to her -- when she could not hear the song -- and she knew it was the only way to find some semblance of victory. ]

We may find that in the future, we'll need each other. No matter where we are from. The way we dispel our discord is only one component of this, but I think it a hint. We must unite, in some fashion.

[diversionist]

I think you're right about that.

[ he's had his suspicions since the beginning. what is the point of this conflict? who stands to gain from it? why should bearers be split into zenith and meridian, and why should these two forces oppose? there are too many questions, not enough answers. not enough reason to accept the situation on its face. ]

These factions, this war — something isn't right. I don't think they're the real enemies we should be worried about.

[ who should they be worried about? he doesn't know, and that fucking troubles him. yima, cyrus, maybe. aetos, even, though why they chose to help the shardbearers and world now is anyone's guess. ]

[wolof]

No, I don't think so easier. We can so easily shift between our factions. We can so easily move, interact, come together...

Is that not a sign in of itself?

[ She shook her head. ]

Though I think after so many years of shard-bearers, it will continue to be difficult to find. Rest assured, you are not alone in looking.

rooted!

[lifespanned]

[ It's hard to ignore the heavy presence of Akua's communion in this strange space beneath the tree — all the more so due to the side effects of Misa's own actions in the previous moon. She can feel that foreign remorse as heavy as if it were her own, which makes it all the more difficult and distracting to grapple with. Guilt? Longing for redemption? Neither are things Misa has harbored in the confines of her heart, not during her actions as the Second Kira, or otherwise. It makes the emotion all the more aggravating to fend off as Akua paces about the tree, and at first, Misa is content to stay huddled up where she's sitting, her cloak drawn up around her shoulders and head to obscure her face.

But every so often, Akua gets too close, and the brand in the shape of the other woman's shard burns against her skin. In a way, it's almost a blessing, because the pain pulls her out of words echoing throughout her mind, questions from Light about how she could possibly think ending the world was the way to save it. On the other hand... well, it's painful? And her feelings only seem to get louder the closer she gets to Misa herself? ]

Hey, can you knock it off? You're distracting me!

[ Impulsively, Misa snaps as Akua makes another round past her, her prissy tone lacking the usual bite it might have. She does what she can to hide it, but underneath the cover of her thick, wool coat, she's clutching at her shoulder where the brand is, a strained wince written deep into her features. ]

[wolof]

[ Akua's steps stilled, and she stopped and turned her head to look at Misa in the eye, her jaw tipped back, it was an imperious look she leveled at her, straight out of eons of Praesi Dread Emperors. The Zenith she held to her was like a cloak, fitting like a suit made of the finest silk. It truly is a shame she isn't Zenith, because it fits her. She almost snapped at Misa, but her tongue was too tightly controlled to merely lash out because Misa did.

But her eyes were sharp, and if they didn't glow in the dim light, they could have. Her lip curled slightly, and she turned toward her. ]

Am I?

[ She asked, and took a step forward, nearing her. She has no way to know that there is a brand on her, that burns. Akua had not forced her own Blight on another shard bearer, shockingly. ]

I cannot be the only one, dear heart, that has come by, but you choose to call to me? [ A smile, then. ] I do not think you feel guilt, but perhaps it weighs on you, that I did not fall to the Blight? An unfinished job, perhaps?

[lifespanned]

Hmph! As if. I could get rid of you any old time I wanted.

[ She bristles, half in irritation and half from the pain of Akua's proximity, as the woman speaks to her. And while the words seem impulsive and like a knee-jerk, petty thing to say, Misa is truly confident that that's the case. Not that she thinks Akua would ever believe her. Hilariously, she also can't get rid of her right this second, but if she could, she would certainly have an distracting thought or two about it. ]

I called out to you because you keep walking back and forth like a— [ a sharp intake of breath, as Akua takes a step forward, unmistakable as being tied to the motion. ] — like maniac...! Why are you doing that, anyway?

[ Underneath her cloak, Misa clutches at her brand, the motion of her fingers visible through the fabric - even if she quickly tries to turn the conversation down another path. ]

[wolof]

[ Akua's smile turns sharp, almost... indulgent, a touch predatory. ]

Well, if you could get rid of me any time you wanted... it must mean you don't want to at all, doesn't it?

[ Sweetly, she asks, though there's always that edge. Akua Sahelian was a Villainess, and it shows in even the ways that she teases, and flirts. ]

I'm pacing, because Zenith fits me like a well-fitting dress. I do not wish it to, but it still hangs on me, and tries to convince me that I would fit.

Have you ever tried to change your fate, Misa? Have you ever tried to change yourself for the better?