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

[redsoil]

I do remember you said it before. That you would not be Meridian, because it would mean that parasite, Piltover, would return alongside your beloved Zaun. And then I told you, that I would ensure Piltover burned.

[ Meridian's vow was the vow that all would return. There was no pruning a dead bush, there was no changing anything to perfect it — no, that was the purview of Zenith. You took the good and the bad, with Meridian. And if one's world was naught but bad, you got all the bad alone. Still, Silco humors him. And he is undeniably immutable. Destruction is in his soul, fire and brimstone the way he would carve out any future. He understands this truth about Silco. He finds it is dangerous, in the way that powerless humans with infinite appetites can be — like locusts. Love is not something he feels for others, it is reserved for one ( two ) individuals alone, but he find someone agreeable.

Agreeable, means acceptable. A mark on the world he would observe. And to like someone? Well, that went a little deeper than simply finding them agreeable. That warranted direct involvement, longevity of relationship. Like this, he knows Silco can see his vow to Yima. The pledge he had made to join Zenith should he 'fail', and her flower lives among the red irises that choke him and restrict his movements, shaped like a multitude of grasping hands that clutch at him, aim to control him. Restrict his freedom and the chaos he drags with him. ]

I know your soul is pledged to Sebastian, for his power. I almost wonder what it would have been like, for us to have made that pact instead.

[ Maybe he feels like imagining things right now. It's a little fun. ]

[zauneyete]

[ Silco sees it, that flower, and understands that it is still something that Set holds in his heart as a possibility. As much as Silco hates any that would stand against him to destroy the lot of it, Set is different. He doesn't care about the myriad of other worlds -- but he cares about his world, and his lands. Something that Silco can understand, even though he has turned aside from Zaun's revival.

He does not say what he thinks, but he does not have to, at Set's promise to take Piltover. They are together, they have shared and dissipated each others blight, and it's clear as day, that hopelessness that Silco feels. That there will be something missing, if he's to go back, even if Piltover burns. There's something important missing -- or so he thinks -- and the reconstruction of the universe will not give back what was taken from him. Supposedly.

His daughter was dying in his arms, after all, before he arrived here. ]

Would you also have been willing to let me burn all that stood in my path? [ He asked, his tone sharp, head tipped. ] Would you have promised to put an end to my enemies, and made them suffer?

[ One enemy, in particular. ] I can guess that you would, wouldn't you? If only my world was redeemable, in that way.

[redsoil]

[ Never, could he willingly destroy a path he can see use in. Zenith may not be his bastion, nor where he places his fragile will, but he cannot turn away from the message contained within — nor Lady Yima, who waits for him. Whom he is infinitely curious about, as a mother who either lost or turned away from hope. Who was she? How did she come to be here, to travel through the tree and forever mourn her children?

Silco asks him, if he would have promised such a thing. He answers the question, correctly. They chose to spare one another, nearly frozen and lost to the Blight. One of them could have taken the other, burning their curse upon their body and freeing themselves — and even backed into a corner, hackles bared and defenses sharp, maddeningly so — they had shed blood, instead. Their souls sang, discordant and wild, together. Even now, he can feel Silco more acutely than any other. Save for Jonathan Sims, whom he knows to avoid.

After all, the Archivist's brand glows upon his brow. Evidence, that he had killed him. ( Truly, it had just been to even the scales between them. Akin to how Sebastian had thought his death would even the balance between himself and Hayame. ) ]

I do not think you, or Zaun, should have to be redeemed to have the right to exist.

[ The words sound warm, as though he says them as a comfort, but the truth is there between the two of them: We are not valueless, nor any less worthy of victory, because we are wicked. It is a similar sentiment he shares with Akua, because Kenos is not a world that cherry-picked its stock of Shard-bearers from heroes. In fact, most of them seem to be awful villains of varying degree. ]

I am fine with you as you are. When finally we must clash in the name of these ideologies, I will meet you without reserve — but, not now. We need not fight here. We need only survive this challenge, and prepare for the next.

[zauneyete]

That, is because you are like me, aren't you?

[ He asks. It's simple. It's an acknowledgement of the fact that in their shards are flowers with gold tipped leaves that threaten to blossom when they are near each other. Because he's reached an understanding with a god, of all people. Of a creature with so much power merely handed to him, that Silco cannot comprehend living in such a way. It's the opposite of him, in so many ways. He is small, insignificant, a dirty little thing that should be discarded -- the sentiment drifts through communion, because their connection is so strong -- but Silco can do little more than accept that it will pass between them.

No, but Set is a monster, just like him. Willing to grasp, and take, and thrive even in conditions that threaten to drown him. He hasn't taken his power for granted, and instead, uses it, like Silco does, and he feels the matching sentiment settle between them. They are the same, and Silco hopes, more than anything, that he and Sebastian could pull him down with them into the dark.

They will try. Set would expect nothing less. ]

No. Zaun has nothing to redeem itself for. We are hard, and we are violent, because the rest of the world forced us to be. It is the rest of my world that I find irredeemable. They are the ones that will be eradicated, if I have to die to do it.

[ He would. He desperately wanted to. Watch them burn, watch it all burn. They didn't deserve anything less. Hell, Zaun didn't even deserve to exist, without -- ]

When we do fight, in the end Set, do not think that my resolve will falter. I will not settle. I've not settled for a single thing in my life and I do not intend to do so in the end.

[redsoil]

Undoubtedly so.

[ Silco knows it for sure, now.

Silco knows, that the players in Set's story of betrayal and fratricide were miscast in the tale whispered in the wake of it. That his comment about stories being told by those with power, for power, was born of a mild bitterness; that in this, Silco has more power than a god, resigned to his leading role as evil, tyrannical, things that he truly was but no one had ever bothered seeking the answers to. ( Is this why he seeks Kenos's answers, then? )

They understand one another, because they both were the betrayed party. Because the men they admired and worked with for years ( centuries ), whom they both may have loved unconditionally in their own ways — those men ruined them, and left them to claw their way out of the too-shallow graves they were left in. But, where Silco hates Vander, Set hates-fears Osiris.

How can he not appreciate this man's desire to drag him into the dark? He lives in the dark already, in a different type of gloom that he does not truly fight, but drags in his wake like a gown of mire and wickedness. A high collar that had been thrown around his throat, tethering him to the reality of the world and its need to have him, one day, be the atlas upon which order was balanced — given meaning, for how could there be meaning without an Adversary? ]

Neither have I.

[ He has never settled. No matter what Osiris had said, about being the one to crown Set in divinity that he fashioned for his little brother, about being the reason for all of Set's bounty and power — it cannot be true ( it could be true ). He will prove Osiris wrong, once and for all, he will let his hate-fear burn within him and lead him in the creation of the old, the raising of millions of worlds as a dark, terrible star. He will deny Zenith their delusion, for whether he was made into a tyrant or chose the path himself, he must conquer and destroy. ]

I know you will stand in my way, and I either I will kill you, or Sebastian will have your eternal soul. Either way, I will mourn you. [ There is no lie in it, no attempt at pandering or pacification. ] I do not want to have to fight you until the bitter end, though. At the least, you know I will face you when I do. And if Zenith prevails, I will burn their world alongside you out of sheer spite — because to achieve the good world they desire, they cannot suffer men like you, or the free, hard, violent people of Zaun, to inhabit it.

[ Maybe he leans in, playing to Silco's tune a little. ]

Even if Meridian does not call to you, you will always have a path to walk within its fire — through me. I will be your path. To ensure Piltover is erased from existence, no matter what comes of this war, because —

[ Because? ]

I know we will trade together. Silco, before we do... I would rather tell you what you will see, before you witness it. The way we could not control ourselves before, I would give us control now.

[zauneyete]

[ There are many things he could say in response. About how that path he offers is still one of complete and total destruction, of how he wants the world itself to burn without his daughter in it. His world would burn, for being one without the most precious thing in any universe to him. He will fight, harder than he'd fought for anything -- and Silco had spent his entire damned life fighting -- to see it through.

Though... Set is honest. he is honest with Silco, with what he will do, with how this will go. He is honest with him in a way that Silco almost believes -- and damn him for believing it for even a second, he thinks, but in communion, there is an earnestness that Silco is unused to, and does not know what to do with. he was a man betrayed, he was a man who wasn't allowed to trust, because the people he had in his youth had thrown him away with the refuse, like discarding an old plaything -- if discarding was also throwing it into the woodchipper, to make sure the temptation to play never came back -- and thus he is hesitant, that Set speaks of honesty, and control, and promises.

But he had seen so much of him, of the betrayal that Set had said he'd performed, of drowning his brother in the river Nile -- and how much of that was an act of revenge for his own betrayal. Silco knew that they were tied, in a way, for they had lived similar lives. There was a thread between them, that betrayal from brothers -- it was always like this, betrayal that scarred so deep, and only those of the same ilk could resonate, and soothe the raw, open wound -- it was the same as with --

Silco's lips tightened, a single eye closed, for only a moment. It's the incessant prattling, as he's trying to consider Set's words, his daughter's chattering/screaming/laughing, all of it happening at once, and Silco wants to turn his head, and tell her to stop, but he knows he won't see her -- but at the edge of his ever-open eye, he feels like he almost could. Like there's the ghost of her clawing at him, trying to convince him to take Set's offered hand, even if it would take him to a world where he is convinced she is dead.

He focused his ever open eye on Set, and with a voice more level than he felt, he finally said, ]

Then tell me, Set. What is it I will see? I want this control as much as you. When the Blight forced us to convene before, our secrets were laid bare, and you and I are both men of secrets.

[ A pause, and then: ] You share yours for me, and I will share with you, and there will be no surprises between us.

We are nothing but honest men to one another, aren't we?

[ Almost of its own accord, Silco's words come, but there is no fear in them. Set will not betray the secrets they share, because if he did, then his promise would be flayed before them, by the courtesy of Silco's revenge. He is not weak, anymore. He is not without power, here. He will fight, and he will dominate if he has to, and there is only one thing he has to protect in this land, and it is not here. ]

oh boy here we go

[redsoil]

We are, surprisingly. [ Honest, to one another. ] How terrible, that it took what it did, to bring us together.

[ He will lose this moment, Set knows. Silco will purge himself of Meridian and return to Zenith, and there will be nothing gained or lost of them. Just secrets exposed. Vulnerable places, where he will be allowing Silco purchase. There is death. There is death of the body, death of the existence in this place, but Set knows — giving this to Silco, will mean the death of his soul if he so decides to utilize it. Those who know of the secret are Meridian alone, and the Lady Yima, who understands his grief and has already proven she will yield it against him ( he seeks to go north, because of her — ), they are those he tethers himself to.

Whom he hands his reins, both to urge them to pull on them when he falters, and to manipulate them with the image he presents. It is a true image, but one he would conspire and use all the same. And now, he thinks to give it to Silco. To Silco, engrossed in ruinous destruction, who will not care a whit for what Set gives him — it will not change a thing. Yet, they are so alike. They are so much alike, in betrayal and wrath and villainy, that he wonders if

maybe

they are

alike, in this: ] I have a son.

[ Simple. To the point. Less words than he has given to Hayame, or Voryn Dagoth, or Dextera. Even less than he had offered Lady Yima herself. I have a son, he tells Silco. ]

I promised him I would return home.

[ That is what others know.

But, for Silco? ] And I lost him, before I even came to Kenos.

[ Though Anubis was alive, grown and beautiful like his mother, his mind was gone. Erased. Turned against him, changed. His beloved son, whom he had done so much for — had so much done to him, forced upon him, whom he had misguidedly, mistakenly hurt, to protect him ( to protect himself, some laughing, mocking part of him scolds ). He was gone, his false father gone to him, and Set left with his ghost. ]

IT'S TIME IT'S TIME

[zauneyete]

[ Silco's own hands, still on his knees. He does not find nervous energy in this moment, but his jaw clenches, his eyes do dance, try to draw to that presence he cannot see, but hear. His eye -- it does not hurt, why does it not hurt? -- and he could swear he sees her, the shadow of her, like quick movement at the corner of his vision. His vision turns away from this -- he has to ignore it, lest he give his weakness away -- or at least too early.

Set's words resonate with him, and his fingers tighten against his legs again, winding into the dirty cloth there, and his eyes dance again, this time to Set, and then away, because he knows now, that there is something that will motivate Set, just as much as there is something that motivates him. For all that he hates this world, and any other that exists, there would have been a chance -- an opportunity -- for Silco to choose Meridian, if he had not himself found --

He does not reach out to Set, as some would. He sits there, his fingers tightening in his pants because he is out of cigars and cannot smoke down here, there is no displacement activity to keep him active, and hide any of the small, subtle signs, that gave the man way. That showed that he understood that there are some things that would motivate men like him, and gods like Set, more than anything else.

He reached up, and ran a hand through his hair. ]

Is he dead? Entirely out of your reach?

[ He asks, his tone carefully neutral, but not terse. It does not hold compassion, but it is a question that is compassionate. Silco does not care about Set's child, of course, but he understands -- in the same way that -- ]

When I arrived in Horos -- [ He starts, carefully. His own careful care of this subject. There are only three people who know of this fact. One, was Yima, of course. He suspected there was little she did not know. The others were Sebastian -- or he suspected the demon had guessed by now -- and Kaeya -- whom had been subjected to the startling devotion Silco had to his daughter. He had never once admitted it himself.

To anyone, least of all an enemy. ] -- Before I awoke, in those moments before the dream of destruction took me...

[ He is meandering, and he knows it. ] I had... picked up my daughter's dying body. On the bridge to Piltover.

[ Is it really so shocking, that he hates them so furiously, and has no place to return to? ]

[redsoil]

[ Set does not immediately answer the question asked of him — about his child being dead, entirely out of reach. He has offered his half of their trade, and now awaits Silco's end as well; they wish to control this, in the way that other things had not been controlled, as they had shed blood in ritual manner for one another and come to find a horrible connection that would bind them together.

It is not the first time, that he has heard of the name of the former world that many of the Shard-bearers had hailed from. Horos seems to have been a defining factor in many of their decisions to align with the Lady and her faction, and others had thrown their lot in with Meridian despite any lingering attachment to the Lady for saving them. An original world ruined, and the next; no wonder Zenith is so strong in some of them, Silco included. ]

Dying, but not dead? Surely there was a chance to save her, then?

[ Still, the twinge of pure loathing he feels — is it his own? is it the commingling of his and Silco's souls, the understanding brokered between them? is it simply the judgment he has rendered upon a city he only knows via a man's hateful ramblings? Seriously, fuck Piltover. Were it his own child, he would raze the city to the ground. In fact, he had. He had slaughtered boys for the crime of resembling, but not truly being his lost child. A horrific campaign, one that he would never willingly breathe a word of — unless he wished to free someone of their care and consideration for him, finitely. ]

— Silco, [ he answers with a sigh, ] if my child were dead, you know where I would be.

[ With Zenith. ]

Anubis is actually my brother's child. He stole my ability to father children, and begat the boy I raised from birth with my wife — so that I could never belong to anyone that was not him. Now, Anubis — is corrupted against me. Osiris did something, to make him forget me, hate me. My brother stole him.

[ So. Is it any wonder that he must go home? Is it any wonder, he must make Osiris pay? Surely, Silco can understand the need to rend a traitorous brother to pieces for the crimes he has committed against the self, and the child. ]

[zauneyete]

[ It is a fear that Silco does not voice, and one reason he is glad she is only here in shard form. A fear that if she were here for long enough, that Vander would find a way to soften her toward him, and perhaps take her from him. It's a fear that he had never known in Zaun, and he lives with it, because he has no choice but to do so. He must end Vander, and his contract with Sebastian would go a long way, but it is not quick, and patience is thin for the man at best.

There is a spike here, of a shared bond, because Silco, too, had stolen Vander's child -- really, taken her in after [a blankness -- he is used to it, not knowing what happened that night, but he is grateful he can remember stumbling on a little girl in the street, crying and screaming. He'd thought about it, ending that last thread of Vander's legacy then. He'd known the girl, who she was -- had known her parents, and seen her when she was very little -- but she'd thrown herself into his arms, and spoke of betrayal -- of being left behind --

Jinx might be strong enough to live -- but it's a chance. A thin one. ]

He gave you a son, and took him away. The power that men like him hold over us. Their ability to strike us, even now --

You want revenge on him. For taking your son. It is not enough that he is merely destroyed, it is not enough that he is just dead. You want to excise that pain from him, personally.

[ Osiris and Vander are the same, in Silco's mind. Are they truly? Are they the same man? Of course not. They are wholly different, but they are both men who betrayed them. Vander had played at being a leader, and gentle -- but there was a beast lurking in there, ready to strike at the inconvenience that was Silco -- like Osiris would manipulate and harm Set. He hissed, in anger, but he understands. Would he not do anything if Jinx only asked? ]

I do not think Jinx would live -- it would be... a marvel if she did.

[ He does not know his future. Caitlyn had told him his daughter killed him, but Enforcers had their ways with words. She had spewed lies to him when he knew his daughter was dead and it was her and Vi's machinations that had led his daughter to the bridge, where she'd taken all of the Enforcers out in the checkpoint. She'd gotten the gemstone, she'd blown them up, and now she was --

There's only the slightest thread of uncertainty, but -- ]

When this is all done, and when Zenith is victorious, I won't live to see it. I know this. But I will make sure that they are left with my daughter in their wake. She was here, Set, before the tree, or Yima, or the universe took her, I don't care who.

[ He blames them all, his tone says, the shared empathy between them screams. He blames the universe for destroying Zaun, for taking his daughter away. He would not forgive any of them, but they don't need his forgiveness to die. ]

But I have her shard, and -- Jinx is perfect, and she would raise chaos on their perfect world and leave destruction in her wake. They will never be free of the stain that we've left on their new world. There will always be chaos, destruction, and strength, no matter how they try to keep safe their little... [ A sneer. ] reunited families.

[redsoil]

He did far more than that. [ Delivered hollowly.

Silco may know of his child, because he had come to understand the man before him. Because they had chosen together, reluctant and cornered, not to assail one another until one was dead, but to offer one another their blood and Shards and — no, he cannot think that what they did was that. ( Cared for one another. ) It is a falsity, and a madness that he cannot fall prey to. Understanding and acceptance was one thing, but to pretend anything else was possible, even now, was foolish. Stupid. The thoughts of a lonely god, whom held his own brutal scars silent in his hands while Silco wielded them as evidence that he was the most wronged man in existence. ]

My brother is the god of life. Nothing dies without his leave, and thus — he is waiting for me. Even if I went to Yima for my child, he would not know me. He would hate me. I refuse to live in a world where my son is not my son, and my brother —

[ The words are haunting. Suggestive of a deeper issue. ]

I saw him, in a vision. Like a Shard-bearer, he was born from the tree and the Lady Yima embraced him like her own.

[ And therein, his hatred surges. It blisters across their strange connection, a wave of fluidity and vehemence and madness; that he ought to tear the flower from where it sits among the red flowers within his soul ( silco will see it, briefly: the offering of those red flowers, and he will know it for set's revulsion, his pure horror and nothing more ). What he feels in that moment is contempt, it is the bellowing how dare you of someone who had not truly fathomed that his own brother might be drawn through time and space. That he had considered that the Lady did not truly care for the pain she was causing, but had not thought her capable of spurning him entirely with such an act.

But, it is just a vision. A warning from the tree, at best. ]

While I appreciate your vision of absolute destruction, I adhere to Meridian because you would rob me of my own vengeance. I cannot call upon my own child and raze this world with you, as he is not my son right now. I have to liberate him. I do not care what happens afterwards. Meridian will win, because I will be here even after you are gone.

[ And then he sighs, closing his eyes as his expression falls into something pained. Paternal. Their will is clashing now, their goals the same exact thing, but in different ways; impossible to reconcile, and perhaps hostility will rise between them unchecked, if he does not sidestep into another matter. ]

Silco. When you die, who is going to safeguard her to their world? If they wish a world purified of what was, do you really think they will suffer her to live? If she was here, they know of her. They will crush her shard before she even has a chance, and you know they will. If not them, then Yima — for if she could call my brother to her world, she will not hesitate to wield your vulnerability against you before you see your vision fulfilled. If it threatens her goal, she will excise it when she sees fit to.

[ A warning, as he hesitantly — carefully, for it is Silco before him ( hostile to all things, especially contact ) — presses the ends of his fingers to the ends of Silco's. Gloved, yes. The hand that holds the contract with Sebastian. ]

Then, you will be gone. And Jinx will have no father to be by her side, against all things to come. You know what you have to do, to truly ensure she is safeguarded, do you not?

[zauneyete]

You know that this world has already robbed me of my vengeance, Set.

[ He says, sharp and biting in response, before Set moves on. Something bitter, and it is not just that Vander is alive, but something is missing, and Birdie Martinson took it. There are more cruelties in this world than just what Yima would commit, after all.

Unknowns are rife in his words. Set's words. He can feel them, see them. He does not say where this vision came from, of his brother and Yima embracing, or why -- but Silco knows that Yima embraces any who will join with her, and who best but a god of life to make her new world. Yima had tried to embrace him, too, and likely would have his daughter, or even Vander, if he'd spent much time there. Silco thinks it is the mark of emotions, that she does so, as if she wishes to manipulate the emotions of those that might sign on with her.

He does not know, because he has never allowed Yima to do so to him. Never embraced it. He fought it at every turn, and never allowed her to do so, unless it was to bestow power. But Silco was unusual to the rest of them. The rest of them found comfort in a maternal presence. The soft promise of darkness and night, the promise of power, and destruction.

Set speaks of standing in the way of his vengeance, and Silco would even now, even as Jinx's distressed sounds echo from behind him, even as he can feel the phantom of her over his shoulder, like the pressure of shadow and the knowledge that she was there -- how often had he conducted business with his daughter watching over him from the rafters? -- He could continue as if he didn't hear her voice, echoing everything Set said. ]

Few know that she exists, let alone -- anything else.

[ Let alone that she is Silco's daughter. Vander still claims her as his -- uses a name she does not, Powder -- and even Aetós does not know her real name. Powder is dead, he told the mage, and he meant it. Jinx was alive, and perfect, but when she'd been younger... she'd had a different name.

His fingers twitch against Set, but he does not pull away. Do they need contact, for this, to exchange energies? ]

If she would be in danger -- [ And she would, for she was Jinx, and if he thought that Set would not favor her... ]

-- Someone would only need someone to look after her life. As a herald of chaos and strife. She is strong, but we are human. We have no powers, but... she's brilliant, a genius. I mean it when I say she is perfect.

[ A wry smile, here. It's rare to see anything but sarcasm or the briefest of microexpressions from the man, but...

It's there. A flicker of something proud. ] Though she is also... impetuous. Whimsical. She would involve herself in trouble just to see what would happen.

You would love her, like you do that unruly beast, Hayame. That woman has nothing on Jinx.

[redsoil]

[ What Silco passes to him, is nothing short than a way to unmake him. Unfortunately, Set has also passed to the man the means to unmake him, as well. There is no victory in admitting what they will see, when they pass Meridian and Zenith energies between them. There is only the fact that they can do it, while they choose to, rather than when it is wrested from them and revealed like someone tearing secrets from their bodies and casting them to the winds. Few know that she exists, let alone — anything else.

Silco's daughter. The girl named Jinx.

Incredulously, punch-shocked by the whole situation, he feels he has entered some parallel dimension. One, where he hears something hidden in what Silco says and cannot fathom that he means it. He cannot mean that hidden thing, he cannot be asking that secret, unspoken thing. His eyes widen, pupils thinning like a startled cat; Set has always been far too expressive, unmasked and bare-faced as he is. He wishes he had his mask now, and instead all that he has is the vague alignment of his fingers to Silco's. What a hilariously wretched pair they are. Two men who can undeniably understand one another, and who would be so undoubtedly powerful if only they were able to unify on one side or the other. ]

— honestly, I was suggesting you eliminate the Lady and the threat she also imposes upon your daughter. You cannot be suggesting what I think you are.

[ The wry smile catches him. He does not think of who Silco could have been, if he had not been thrust into the waters and commanded to die for — for what? What could even inspire Vander to turn upon someone his life was already irrevocably bound to? What threat could Silco have represented, that death was the only way to handle him? Certainly, Set sees death as the only way to end him — but, it is born of the muddled respect he has for an implacable man. He only thinks of who he is. A difficult man, but one that Set — oddly admires. ]

If I were to, [ he swallows, and hostility ( how dare you, audacious human ) blooms briefly within him, ] look after her life, you would be asking me to abandon my own child in favor of yours. If she can only exist in Zenith's future, I cannot do that. But. If you think, for a moment, that Meridian's victory [ there is no 'if' between them, only deals to be struck, ground to be covered ] could also be a life she thrives in, destroys and runs heedless and free throughout — you know I would love her like my own.

[ Chaos. Strife. If anything, Jinx sounds more like a child of his than his own son — whom he wanted a long, beautiful life for. Because he would never ask his child to change his stripes, and he was born of a gentle mother. Anubis would never survive Zaun, but neither would he yield to the ideal of Piltover. Perhaps that was why he reigned now as the god of death itself, haunting and harrowing to deal with. ]

Silco. As you describe her, I is impossible to think I could not love her, in the way that you would never love my own child.

[zauneyete]

[ It likely said a lot, that Silco had not considered offing Yima -- or that it wasn't his first choice. He was not one to simply accept leadership, but he had not been fully done wrong by Yima, and she had... certainly been upset, by the prospect that Jinx had left. She'd given him gifts, after all, and asked him to make monsters. He doesn't share this with Set, it is not the secrets he keeps that he fears being unleashed.

He does not fret about Set knowing that, if he finds it. It is his, and he does not spread it, but it is not a secret that he closely guards, like his daughter.

Set is true, that he could never love his son like he does his daughter -- Silco does not like anyone like he does his daughter. There is something to be said, for finding your child in the moments after [[something]] betrayed in the aftermath. Something about finding someone just as hurt as you, and taking them in, even though Silco had never thought of himself as the type to be a parent. Unlike Set, he was not married, he had never really -- well. Being betrayed by someone who had been like your brother certainly axes any ability to trust in the future, and Silco had revenge to plot, besides, it had never been a concern.

But... ] I am not asking you to... give up your own goals. Any more than you would ask me to give up mine, or favor your child over mine.

[ No, not that. As much as he knew they would oppose each other, in the end, as much as he knew that they would be foes, when the end came, only one would be the victor. He knew this, and he wanted it to be Zenith. He would do everything in his power to make it so. ]

I am asking, that in the event of... [ The unthinkable. Meridian's victory -- perhaps even Zenith's, if Set faltered, or if Yima found it in her heart to bring the Meridian to this new world as well. He had spent little time thinking about this perfect world they all so desired... ]

A result, in which you live, and I do not. If it is possible...

[ He does not ask Set to raise her. She is free, independent and strong. She is wild and untamed, his daughter. She would likely kill him on the spot for asking this, or at least threaten, and then cease talking to him for weeks on end, until Silco made it up to her. ]

Well. I would ask that you give thought to her, in the case that forces greater than I, or her, could weather. We would need your consideration.

[ His fingers twitch, uncontrolled.

He does not want to think of a Meridian victory, even as a part of him that he loathes -- that this sap wants him to consider -- sings with agreement. He wishes for a Zenith victory, and he has done everything in his capability to amass power, to ensure that when his daughter is unleashed on this new world, she will have a playground to make of it.

But there are no guarantees. Silco needs to strike deals, to ensure the foundation. Set is one among many, he considers, but an important one. ]

[redsoil]

[ Yeah. To Set, who is unaware, it would say that Silco is not truly invested in his goal of ultimate destruction. To the Meridian that hums within the god, it is knowing: why would Silco not truly safeguard his child against the harmony found in Zenith? The harmony that would seek to stifle her, when he is gone and can do nothing for her but hope his machinations last into a future he cannot ascertain. ( Meridian sparks wicked within Set, calling on him to drag Silco to his side. To remind him that it is not just Zenith that could serve his every end, not with Set there. Zenith is not active destruction. It is just acceptance of destruction made by other hands, after all. Chaos only exists because imperfect places exist for it to flourish. )

Set jerks his fingers back, to rip the connection that threatens to build between them away. Hateful and sudden of the way the opposing energies seek to speak to one another, to duel for artificial ideologies that ought not define the natural world. In Communion, there might be a note of apology. A rueful thing that snaps and bites at the energies within him and commands them not to ruin this moment he seeks control over, with Silco. It is the same spark of violence within him that he had focused not upon the man he could easily overpower and betray, but the forces that attempted to drive him to act. Even if he would act, he did not appreciate being twisted into some other shape.

Osiris had tried that, after all. ] You know I will. Have I not already vowed to do all within my power to safeguard your wild Zaun? Why would I turn away from your daughter, whom embodies that world? I would do it with her, Silco.

[ He hates that he would say such a thing, but a girl as destructive and wild as Jinx does not deserve one Zenite-pure world to unleash herself on. She deserves to be upheld as a beacon upon which all worlds should be her playground to. How short-sighted and selfish of Silco, he thinks, to entrap her in a single cage, when she could have infinite room instead.

Still, as he curls his hand to his chest and contains the Meridian that seeks its opposite, seeks to coerce Silco, he murmurs: ] And because we understand and know one another, you know I will ask you: what would you possibly pay me with — to do this thing? I know what this is. A deal made on tenuous grounds, a long span of time than even the one we struck before. You want my immediate vow, and you want my consideration into that possible future. That is a very high price, and your mortal soul already belongs to Sebastian.

[ There are no guarantees. Set needs to strike deals, to ensure the foundation. Silco is one among many, he considers, but an important one.

( He knows, what he might ask for. He wants to know Silco's thoughts first. ) ]

[zauneyete]

[ Silco does not have himself to give. Not now, and perhaps not ever. He is promised to Sebastian in a way that the god could not circumvent, and likely would not choose to, given the way the two of them spoke to one another, and interacted. It was... interesting was the nice way to put it, and he knew better than to offer what he could not give. Silco would be nothing in the end, if he made it that far. He wished to allow the reverberations of his presence echo, but would it truly do so? Or would he merely fade into nothingness and obscurity, revenge all that was left for him to achieve, and nothing more?

He hated that, just as much. He wanted power, he wanted the pursuit of it, and the achievement of it to be his legacy. Shimmer was only a part, of course. He wanted to see this world fall apart, crumbling at the foundation and the shockwaves of power taking it down by the seams. In the end, he cared for Zenith only as a vehicle of destruction, of finding a way to destroy, because he did not believe this world would be perfect that they would achieve. If it was, Jinx would perfect it, make it whole and chaotic and rife with chaos, and she would destroy it from within if it was found wanting.

Set pulled away, and there's biting, thrashing within communion. Did he think to try to corrupt him? Him? Silco did not rush forward, but he reached out again to take Set's hand in his, his teeth bared. ]

Do not try to spare me your convictions, Set. If you think I am so weak in my own devotion to Zenith, you will find your efforts wasted. I want this Meridian out. I will hold fast against whatever you try to corrupt me with.

[ He had no doubts. None. And that Set would try to pull him away from that snapping beast that lurked, he wanted to wrest it from him personally. Pull that monster free and unleash it on the shard-bearers within here like a violent, snapping thing. He wanted it to bite the hands that fed it, and lay waste to them. What did he care about this world? What did he care about the rest of theirs? Even Set's -- but he withheld that thought, kept it close -- for he knew now, that the man was motivated in the same way he was.

Would he not have turned the world asunder if the Sister had reappeared, and turned Jinx against him? Would he not have given anything to see her back? Even revived Piltover, just for the chance of it? Would he havethe chance, if he were there? No, this is better, freed of Vi and whatever filth and nonsense she would have tried to sway Jinx with, and he knew his daughter, he knew she would, because Vi did what Vander neverfind her, and not just to kill her again.

There would be apologies for Jinx, where there never would be for Silco, and he could not allow that. It was just them, after all. It would always be just them. ]

I would help make you a monster, Set. Find the power that lies here, and help you achieve it. I want to see this chaos you promise us come to the fullness of its power. [ He wants to corrupt him, bring him to Zenith, but even if he does not --

With their hands rejoined, he uses communion to speak the words now, lest Sebastian overhear this. ] I would aid you in this, for the price of watching over my daughter when I am not able to.

[redsoil]

[ What does it mean, to be seized by the hand of a man who despises contact?

Set wields his body as a weapon, a reward. His utility is pure in nature, obvious in its vast adaptability; he is a combatant, an object to despise or desire, a gift to be bestowed upon the faithful and a nightmare to unleash upon the faithless. He is a man, just another man, who cannot bear the touch of others — so, he lunges into contact to wield it as one more form of dominance and control. When they had first met, he had touched the scar on Silco's face — and the reaction had been explosive. He wonders now, if he were to touch him, if the reaction would be exactly the same.

Caught in that grasp, he twists himself towards Silco. The teeth he had turned upon his own muddled energies lunging mentally ( physically, briefly flashing between his snarling lips and hateful, animal eyes — ) towards a man who was telling him that he was incorruptible. Part of him wants to test that claim. It feels like a challenge, and Set thinks — perhaps, he is the only one who could truly rise to meet it. ]

I do not think you weak. I just think, [ a slow, methodical pause: ] you would have been even more powerful, with me.

[ That is not to say, without Sebastian's contract. He will not threaten that, because he requires Sebastian in his own ways — they are alike, dangerous in their utility, and he wishes to learn. More than he wishes to threaten the demon's meal, or rob him of his work. It is why he does not seek to free Silco of that bargain, for he had made his choices as all humans had been born to do. He will outlive him, and Set knows — he will mourn him. ]

Ah.

[ Drawn in, the words that pass between them are ones that he schools his expression against. How ironic, that it is a human who promises a god power, in this moment. Yet, Set cannot deny that he craves it; he already has the power to break what must be broken, but what he wants most is — to be wanted. Acknowledged. Looked upon as something one is incapable of tearing their eye from, hated and perhaps, shamefully loved.

It is an enticing deal. A bargain struck, in exchange for his vow to watch over Jinx in Silco's eventual absence. The vastness of his eternity spreads before him, still; to shepherd her is one thing, but to do so ad infinitum? That is where the price increases, exponentially. Thankfully, Set is smarter than he is greedy. ]

As partners? [ Not just two men who will undoubtedly use one another, but

equals. ]

[zauneyete]

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

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

He never had the chance to say goodbye? --

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

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

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

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

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

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

[redsoil]

[ Like an overripe fruit, Set seizes at that stray thought. ( A goodbye that would never be said. ) Even though it splits in his grasp, it is a thing he tucks away into the depths of his mind — among the other stray thoughts, throw-away comments, glancing blows and rapidly-hidden expressions he watches for. It goes to the place where Set hoards things, his own conquests and spoils, and sometimes sifts his fingers through to feel something, anything. The prerogative of a god, unfathomable and otherworldly in his own psychology.

If Zenith's hopes make a world that is beyond chaotic, he thinks he could enjoy it. Less so than his own enjoyment, he thinks — with Anubis, with Horus, he could find something to accept about it. Yet, the allure of hundreds, thousands, millions of worlds that glisten and gleam upon his mother's body, her starlit skin full of the distant dead ( souls, and were those souls, perhaps, not worlds? ) — and the idea that Zenith's world could be sterilized by their leader, whom loves without pity or passion, and made clean, pristine... useless? That is anathema to him.

With him, they could do it. Without him, he knows they are delusional. Only one of their visions will win out, he thinks. ]

I would still be where I stand, if I were in your place.

[ Because Osiris, with his peerless stance and dark eyes, would take Yima's hand. And briefly, in Silco's mind — those fathomless, pitiless eyes look upon him with true apathy. With the eyes of someone who would ignore Silco's clawing, Silco's wrath, and find nothing in it at all. The same eyes that would look upon Set, softened and creased at the corners. Warm. ( Hungry. Possessive. ) His own 'Vander' does not want him dead. He just wants him, however possible. And Yima would give him that.

He dips into Communion, pushing his hand deeper into Silco's grasp. Seizing him up, reaching for the Meridian within him — demanding it, commanding it to come to him. Silco does not want it, nor need it. Thus, it belongs to Set. Meridian must come to heel, and leave this man. ]

I really do like you. [ He says. Without fanfare, without guile. Because Silco is right, and his thoughts have always been Set's own — they will become monsters, glutted upon power and they will gladly watch the horror in their own faction's eyes as they continue on their paths. Their paths, though... require, that Set forever remain where he is. Silco, for all he stands firm with Zenith, could do the same with Meridian; like a whisper, like cool shadow cast by the brightest ray, Set assures him of that, not to ask him for hope, but to tuck it into a pocket. A dark favor. A bitter candy. A ravenous opportunity.

His gaze, settled upon the join of their hands, flicks up. Heedless and burning direct, as he slides his other hand — his free one — across the space between them, to press his fingers, his palm, the whole of his burning touch, to the scar on Silco's face. ]

As partners, then.

[zauneyete]

[ For once, Silco does not pull away from the hand that presses against the smeared makeup and sick, stringy flesh that lay underneath the veneer he so often erected. He does not like people to touch him -- Quetz had just recently done so, only days before, and Silco had reeled and raged like a wildfire over it. He'd done so to Set, too, the first time they met, and even Yima -- when she had tried to force that kindness and love onto him, that he so thoroughly refused. He imparts that to Set, even as he accepts that Set would not welcome himself to Zenith, thanks to the eyes of a brother that could be accepted by Yima. A man with impassive, but gluttonous eyes that hungered for Set and him alone. Silco had never experienced such a thing, he does not know what it is, to be...

Wanted. In any way, other than as a parent, and that had been trauma that bound him to his daughter, a need to have someone who would not leave. Silco cannot understand Set's experience with Osiris other than it is vile, because nobody has ever wanted to keep him around. Even his daughter -- he thinks -- he clings to desperately, knowing that her sister could and would convince her to leave him, if he didn't hunt her down and eradicate her.

Would have. Were his daughter to survive.

He does not know. He does not know, but he knows she is -- was -- safe in his quarters. She had been here, and Vi was gone because Vander couldn't stomach to stay close. He could keep his daughter free from Vi, and rest assured that she was his daughter, no matter what.

Silco might be a touch codependent. Something Set was likely to learn, with time. ]

Perhaps you would. We are similar, Set, but we are not the same.

[ Both monsters, fighting for their children in another world, that they had taken from their brothers and raised as their own. Betrayed by men that they thought were their brothers, Silco had been drowned in a river, while Set had drowned his in revenge. Silco could not blame him, knowing what he did of the man's own trangressions. He wanted Set at his side -- he and Sebastian both did, he knew -- in Zenith, but he is correct that the promise, that little whisper of a promise is something to tuck into his pocket, to hold close and keep as an ejection, or an escape route, should Zenith betray him. Silco knew it was possible, even now. Even with Yima's endless love -- and unwanted though it was -- there was no guarantee Silco would get what he wanted. He did not care about the new world, he did not even care about his life. He cared about Jinx's -- and that meant there were still ways in which Zenith could lose him.

But that was not something he considered. Because he considered only one thing, Power -- and Set's hand on scar, the other holding his hand -- he felt the Meridian be peeled from him like a shock of electricity, and he clumsily dove for what was safe, and familiar. That chill, like being deep within a cave, the drip of liquid and the stink of refuse, it is like being home, the feeling of Zenith, and he takes it from Set as greedily as the god takes from him, searching for it, taking. ]

Let them fear us.

[ He vowed it. It is not just a deal, or a bargain. It is a promise. ]