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]

You asked me what I found in the faction of my choosing. I answered. I said I was not here to curry your favor, or press you into service of either. You could die here, Unharmonized. That is a choice you may make, too. I will bring your Shard to the Tree if you ask it, and give you another chance — free of the burden of this Oracle.

[ A god is absolute, purity of might without the wretched, expended effort of the powerless to attain it. He was born-made for it, crowned in it, filled with it as more than birthright — as evidence of the world's authority, of reality and causality. Because he exists in Kenos, is it not proof enough in the eyes of others that reality as it was has gone no where — that it has simply been misplaced? Not everyone puts stock in gods, though. Atheists and the secular-minded spurn him readily, but they will not for long. Not when he attains prestige, not when he stands above them all in dark, abyssal glory and demands of them their unfaltering faith.

And then, he will devour all he must, to seek his goal. For he is not a brilliant god of honor and light, but something bleak and blood-soaked, his divinity dark and diabolic, and his attitude that of a half-mad narcissist. Makoto is not wrong, to loathe a creature such as this; Makoto, who has crawled before the memory of a god that would not save him or love him, must now meet another god who would speak to him of power, of that which he has lost.

He does not begrudge this creature. ]

Or, do you wish to end the cycle? I can do that for you, too.

[ Set will not offer just one option. He offers every one that is within his power, because he has it. For Makoto, for those like Makoto, he has it. With his eyes wide, the same shade as his hair — that setting-sun scarlet, the lurid splash of blood, the beautiful color of someone's innards, of fire and ruby-red madness. The manner of god he is is not a god of people, nor a god that absolves and coddles. He is a god of disorder, one that exists to rattle the hearts of those who think they are resolved; to confuse those who think their minds honed, think their confidence unfounded.

Not a thing he offers is for a faction, distinctly. Each thing is for Makoto alone. ]

Or. If you do not care for the past, or the future, then what the now? Fix your eyes here. Upon the one who embodies all you seem to scorn. Am I not a brilliant enough target, that you would want to have me brought low before you?

[affal]

Yes. And perhaps that was a mistake.

( yes, and he does say it peevishly, the little brat. this is perhaps an occasion of makoto being animated by memories and illusions of how he believes he should behave, keeping in his mind's eye the image of the most powerful demons of Hell (an image he would have to force himself to admit is J, and only J) and doing all that he can to emulate it down to the very marrow of his gifted bones. perhaps he might have been interested in such a reply from someone who had faced the same harsh realities that he had; for someone who knew, just as he did, that "choice" was a lie sold to those without the power to affect others and their own situations — it's smoke and mirrors, a cheap and feeble justification of cruel artifice that, if they didn't have a direct hand in creating, they certainly didn't want to send tumbling down.

he has never had a choice in any of the shit hands he's been dealt; the only one he had managed to claw, scrape, gnash, and tear away for himself had been that which he had come to find when he realized his only true inherent value. not as a heart, or as a mind, or as a fierce and unending torrent of passionate determination (though perhaps J had treasured him for these things as well, even if he had never successfully communicated it in a way makoto had comprehended and accepted): it was as a body, which was ironically the only thing he possesses that wasn't actually his. how did he trade himself and spend himself away, and to whom, and for what? these are the only choices he feels he had ever truly made for himself.

it's why he asks for trade. he asks for something substantial, something quantifiable, something he considers real. devoid of the perception of power that would have very literally made him powerful in Hell, this is the only thing he has left to him, the only thing he values.

his eyes narrow to bloody gashes as set describes his other so-called "choices." his anger rises again, another wave to batter an already-distressed shore. he leans forward at his first set of questions, lip peeling away from inhumanly sharp teeth in an expression of indignation. )

If I wanted that, I would "choose" better than you.

( the only thing more infuriating to speak with a god about than power is death. as if it's a concept he would ever know to fear — or to crave. at least not in the same way a creature such as makoto (or perhaps even as J) might. at this point, makoto isn't even really sure if taking set up on his offer would work. he had chosen death when he had summoned and contracted with J, and he had denied it to him. and even when he had rejected his presence in kenos with everything that he was, as scoured as he was from his experiences in horos, he had still subconsciously formed the spiritual scar tissue necessary to survive here. he feels as though he will persist, no matter what, regardless of what it is he wants.

but, in truth, he doesn't want to die. the only time he had ever wanted to die was in his utter despair, trapped in a world that damned him as a sinner and a criminal and a deviant and a monster before he had even done anything wrong, unable to see any future for himself. he likes to believe he has changed, since then.

but if he wanted someone to take him in hand, with sorrow and compassion and pained understanding, to end him once and for all — that individual would not be set.

he continues — and set could have no idea of what sort of ground he treads upon, how thin and treacherous this ice is. how fathomless and deep the waters below are, having welled up and filled this vacuous space by the force of sheer spite alone. though easy to incite, there are very few things that will cross a line to where makoto moves entirely without thinking, and this is one of them; his hand snaps out like a striking snake, hand entangling in the golden jewelry ornamenting his neck and shoulders, pulling makoto himself bodily closer if the god himself proves immovable.

and as he does so, a flash of an image presses itself into his mind through the turbulence of Communion: a man not necessarily unlike set in physique, his long hair somewhat curled and platinum blond instead of deep red, head crested with scything horns rather than the mask of a divine animal. in this fleeting image, this brief memory, the demon smiles at him knowingly (perhaps even challengingly), his pale flesh torn and bloody, body tearing away into gore. ) For that, there is already a sun in my sky, ( one that in every way he navigates by, which he is unable to ever escape, ) ...unless you are offering yourself as a replacement.

( a single, harsh laugh. ) And besides, ( he says, tongue razor-sharp, ) It's men who are meant to offer themselves up on altars to the gods. Isn't it rather obscene to propose the opposite?

[redsoil]

[ Better. Beautiful. If Zenith is the cool, icy calm of nihilism, he finds the spark of wrath, of vehemence, the representation of Meridian. The sun is cruelty, he thinks of the side of the light. It is not simply hope, it is not benevolent or kind, it is the harshest mistress — the path of those who will bite, who will act spitefully.

As Makoto seizes the golden collar around his neck, he steps to meet him. To align his hip along the other's and lean toward him, into that vicious little hold and the misshapen way that he attempts to know others. Within the press of their minds, that is apparent. He seeks to know Makoto. The words he speaks are not just shapeless barbs, meant to attack and assault, but prying things — fingernails that pluck at thin strings to find songs, the pad of a thumb that glosses over the fletching of an arrow shaft to seek where it is uneven. ]

Where is your sun, then?

[ He digs, harder. Deeper. Seeking some place he can sink his teeth into and shred, to expose Makoto's true desire; he wants to witness him, those too-pretty features contorting into rage, or the elevation of his brows in startled shock as if dashed across the face. Where is Makoto alive, within his demands for trade and value? What does a youth like him even value? Anyone coming to offer him anything is being asked to stumble blindly upon a creature and beg for his hand. Set is not here to offer him marriage, for pity's sake.

He is not here to command him to Meridian, nor Zenith. He is here to inspire, whether that inspiration proves a swelling of faith or hatred, he does not care; it is a calling that had begun, when they had entered the world. A target, a dark stain upon reality. Set's own pupils thin, and something trickles between them — potential — the soft, fledgling un-life of a thing not unlike Makoto. The infantine stirring of an aspect of his nature, hungering and dark. ]

He ought to be yours, Makoto. Four times, you say you have come back, and if not for the sheer spite of it — to obtain that which you have sought? Your sun is not here, so then, where will you find him? Will it be on the field you have long known, the stage already set for your banquet? Or will you take him to a new existence, one where you will have the upper hand — where you craft the reality upon which he will have to survive?

[ Meridian, or Zenith. Which hunt sounds better?

His smile does turn a little wry, a little twisted in its own way. As he reaches up, up to curl his fingers under the young demon's chin and give it a little toss, a long stroke from upper throat ( avoiding contact with the scar, but appraising it nonetheless ) to jaw. ]

Obscenity is my forte, actually. Among the Ennead, I am both altar and slaughter. If I was unwilling to debase myself for kin and kind in this place, how would I ever win? I will do whatever must be done, to reach my goal — if you want my flesh and blood, well. You would not be the first. I will choke you to death on me, if you so value such a thing.

[affal]

( in a way, set calls his feint; rather than remaining resolute or fighting for distance away from him as makoto strikes out to close it, he steps inside of his guard in a way that causes a distant, buried martial instinct (one half-forgotten, which he had learned in a place he no longer remembers) to clamor with sharp alarm. but as the god surges forward to meet him, pressing willingly into his body along the pull of his grasping arm, bent over his shorter form, it's makoto's first instinct to flee. he needs to break away, gain distance, reassess — but it slowly becomes apparent over half-seconds, bleeding through the conjoined morass of their shared Communion, that set does not do this with the intention of hurting him. instead, it is curiosity; it is the most full-fledged attempt that one can muster to know another. in this... makoto can find some understanding. this is a lesson that had been taught to him relatively early, in Hell — for all the illusions and reflections that demons can put up around their true selves in speaking to you, silvered tongues weaving the image of who they wanted you to believe they were (because your belief made it so), there are certain lies that the body cannot perfectly replicate.

in recognition of this, makoto remains where he is. it is an acknowledgment, and acceptance, and but there is still his characteristic youthful indignation still inherent in the strength of his stance.

beneath the cascading curtain of the war god's hair, makoto stares at him with narrowed eyes that glint metallic in the low light. )

He is mine. Regardless of whether or not we are apart.

( one assertion he has been able to sift from the vagueness of his memories of horos: J had been there, and he is certain he had been the one who had found him. with everything that has happened to him — to the two of them — the unfortunate byproduct that impresses itself upon the young demon is that he believes, to a certain extent, that they are destined. as soon as he had heard that it was possible to win the shards of others to this world, his restless drive had calmed, willing to see just how far he could push certain unspoken rules. if his master's shard were to be plucked from the Timestream at any time, makoto would prefer to prepare before he made a move to acquire it. it's an advantage, after all, to learn about this place and collect some more strength (regardless of what he had bitterly said earlier about power) out of his sight, all to better use against him later. )

All the stage does is arrange the rules for my assailment against him. ( there is a part of him that wants to despair, to discard the whole factor out of hand because it doesn't feel purposeful enough. but he thinks it through further, tactically. ) Were we to return to Hell, he would be restored to all of the power he's built over centuries... and I would be back to clinging to the lower rungs of the ladder, chasing after him.

( he feels determination that he could catch him, surpass him even, but he's not sure if those are delusions of grandeur or... something else. )

If I had a hand in writing the rules of engagement myself, however, with a new world... ( his words are hesitant, begrudging, ) Perhaps that would be an advantage worth investing effort in again. ( even if he's so worried it will all be for naught again.

his gaze had wandered the deeper his thoughts had gone on this, but the gentle, methodical touch at his jaw, fingertips tracing down the tender arch of his throat, cause his eerie eyes to return to set's own. they seem to glow like low embers in the dim light, as hypnotic as his decorated words; wariness creeps along makoto's spine in a protracted prickling tread, knowing full well from his time in Hell the danger of creatures like this. he is one of them. but as he speaks, he finds himself for the very first time drawn to him in kinship rather than repulsed by the disparate difference of their existences, their experiences, their placement here and in their own worlds. but it's not as though something like that is new or unexpected. makoto has learned in his second life as a demon to embrace contradiction; hatred and devotion, compassion and cruelty, desire and violence... even if they are each an inhale or an exhale, they are still the same breath, are they not? ever-so-slightly, makoto leans into him; the hand twisted in the gold hung around his neck pulls tighter, intending that, if set is to loom over him like this, he would at least have him crane into slight discomfort to do so. ) That's the first thing you've said to me that makes sense, ( he presses the words warmly into the close space, fervent, ) I am the same. To achieve my goals, I will do whatever it takes — I have done whatever it takes. ( and yet, as much sacrifice as it had taken, of his mind and his body and his dignity, he wants to make one thing clear. his eyes flash, teeth baring dangerously as he continues, ) But I will make one thing clear: I am no sacrificial lamb.

[redsoil]

Consider it. Manipulate the question being asked into something that supports your desires — you are being forced into a corner here, but it will not last.

[ That is the irony of this Oracle's asking — some have gone to the side they choose, that they truly support. Others? They have been forced, and if-when their eyes are opened to such a failure, he imagines they will become quite invigorated. Hopefully, he can assist them in turning their feelings toward Zenith, whether the consequences of the corruption are warranted by the Zenites or not.

He thumbs along Makoto's small jaw, bent over him with a great willingness to continue the push-pull of conversation. What he worries(?) for most is: ] Do not let them take your reins in hand without making them pay for it, either side. One of the tactics here is to suppress your will and bring you to heel, to force you to compromise what you are worth in favor of point value.

[ Makoto claims he is no lamb for the altar, but Set presses back on that — he will be seen that way, by others. He will be seized one way or another, willing or unwilling. ]

So, Makoto. We come to the crux of your demand then — what I can give you. Remain Unharmonized, and allow me to carry your Shard back to the Tree and I will continue to support your freedom and liberty from both Factions until such time that you find in them what you are worth and take them for it.

[ Slowly, he releases the young demon. Spreads his hands and does not smile, expression severe and simmering. ]

Or, join me as Meridian. The old stage can still serve you, if you take home a surprise or two — you will have access to the war god's blessing for as long as you remain, and use of this body of mine even if you do not. Provided neither of us usurp the other's free will, or tame one another.

I want to see your victory, against your sun. Imagine claiming it, with the wickedness inherent in the shadow the sun casts.

[affal]

( up until this point, his time in kenos has not been about the conflict between Meridian and Zenith (and, in all likelihood, it never would be). it hadn't even been about what his heart's deepest yearning desire was, or what future he wanted to see upon the horizon, or even how he would begin to build towards any of this here, in this new place that he had to call his reality. the reason for that had been because it is hard, to learn to live again. having to do so the first time, rewriting the mental pathways of a human being into those of a demon, had nearly been too much for him — though others had tried, there had never been another mortal who had survived the transition without going mad... well, mad to the point where they were no longer functional, and they had to be discarded (at least makoto's own madness was focused enough to make him rather good at being a demon rather than suffer such a sad and unsatisfying end). based on what he's heard, he must have striven valiantly to adjust in horos, but set to do it a fourth time... he had struggled to find the drive. it's just so difficult to keep trying to build a fortress upon the shoreline, only to have the tide roll in and wash it away. his tenacity is particularly strong, but it isn't infinite.

perhaps he has been balancing on a knife's edge this whole time; if his heart and mind once again couldn't reconcile his return to this sisyphean struggle, it's likely the fix that his soul had found in damaging the interior of his shard until it was just enough to bear wouldn't hold. he would once more dissolve, and it would once again be a mystery whether or not he would pull himself back together... though, if he did, perhaps it would be even less of himself than it had been.

the Iconoclast Oracle had challenged this. perhaps it was well that it should. and set seems to loom over him now as its echo, recasting a pressing demand into exactly what makoto had started to try to come around and see it as: an opportunity. there's something about being held in the war god's hand that reminds him of when he had been young, fresh, and terrified in Hell; J had taken hold of him in much a similar way, giving him just enough information he needed to survive but allowing the harshness of his new home to provide the crucible required to forge him into something strong enough to master it. thinking of this puts steel into his spine. no, he is not that contemptible, mewling creature anymore. he is a full-fledged demon in his own right. in three short years, he had grown powerful enough to earn his initial — not even the demon who had employed him could hold his name in his mouth without beginning to break apart. he had plied the demons' trade so tirelessly and so mercilessly that J's coffers had overflowed like they never had before!

so when he growls in low undertone, ) They won't, ( he means it.

even before set relinquishes him, he grows tense at his first offer. ) No, ( is his answer to it, when he is given a chance to give it. the fierce determination he had shown just a moment ago isn't gone, but it falters here. he seems even paler than normal, and he gives a small shake of his head. ) Dissipation isn't an option.

( not one he agrees to, at any rate. he doesn't want to confide to set why that is, but perhaps one day he would find out for himself: the state that makoto's shard is in, already cracked clear through, down the middle, sealed with gold and pock-marked with warping and cloudiness on the interior. his soul has weathered much and more, both here and on horos, to still stand before him now. he... is worried that, should he dissipate once more, he might not be able to pull himself together again.

his offer... he considers it. he still considers returning to Hell, to a stage that J already ruled to play according to his tune, to be a major disadvantage. could set even guarantee him such a boon — would they be granted such a thing before their supposed return? the offer of a war god's blessing is enough to get him interested... though he has to table it for just a moment, giving a single bell-like laugh before fixing set in a dark, capricious stare accompanied by a vulpine smile, ) Now, now. Let's not go recklessly making offers of ourselves that we may live to regret.

( maybe kind of an odd thing for a weird little twink to say, but... perhaps set would come to realize exactly what he meant in saying it, remembering how the demon's eyes glittered for a moment here and realizing that they had done so with a hunger that raked on multiple levels. ) Those would be acceptable conditions, regardless.

( he pauses for a moment, considering. )

...I need time to think. I can't make this decision now. ( at the risk of sounding like he's made no progress here, however, he swiftly amends, ) It's one that I will make, and to the specifications you have described. But... I don't want to later feel as if I chose in haste, neglecting to consider all angles. ( ... ) I can think of no other reason that this body of mine still draws breath but to ensure the destruction of my master. ...If you take personal interest in this quarrel of mine, then... should it be within my power to grant you audience, I shall, in good faith.

( it's going to be a rather messy affair, set... )

[redsoil]

[ The blessing of a god like Set is not easily won, nor provided by him. He is partial to certain types of people, ones with long-standing grudges or battles against some 'other' that demand his attention. Among those he has chosen to bless, one harbors a deep-seated desire to see their other destroyed, one harbors the potential to reach into the beating heart of the world and rip it apart. And the third, is Makoto. Makoto, who considers the stage upon which he wants to face his sun, and whose answer is satisfying enough. ]

As I said, my blessing is for those who belong to 'my side' [ the air quotes are there, heavily implying the transitory nature of such words; even though he is a god, he speaks like a demon — like fey creatures, in riddles and hidden meanings. He does mean Meridian, for that is the side he has made himself representative of, but Zenith who might support him from within — who are not sold on the ideal of a 'perfect world', or the woman who carries their banner — traitors and opportunists alike? They could count. ] But, the other offer is negotiable —

[ He dips his hands low, to seizes at Makoto's own where it has gathered in the golden line of his collar. Brightly, perhaps frighteningly so, he seems to come alive under the idea that somewhere, sometime, they may come together again. ]

— as I am quite willing to strike other types of deals among either Faction, as you may have overheard. Something that offers mutual satisfaction and benefit will always pique my interest, and there are so many ways that we could do that!

[ As if to illustrate such a thing, he nods across the open environment beyond them — the glimpse of bodies beyond the private cove they have slid into, where prying eyes and greedy ears might not fully glean the things they speak of. He calls attention to the dark-haired demon, the businessman and his bi-colored eyes. Deals, Set says. Honestly, he likely walked away with the better end of the bargain he had with Silco, this time... ]

I do not want a hasty, or forced decision for you either. I want to see your fight with the one you call 'master', although I will have to oppose you more than support you if you are with Zenith. I simply think there are a million worlds awaiting you, and any one of them could be a new place to take him. Meridian does not demand you go to your original home, after all.

[ He's just getting really excited. ]

Imagine picking out one to suit you and he! Imagine having him across a million different universes and cultures! An eternity of colorful experiences for the two of you!

[affal]

( makoto senses the way that set speaks of his blessing — he certainly doesn't want to appear to the god that he's taking the offer for granted, but... )

I understand. It's not that I belittle or besmirch the potential offer of your blessing, Set. ( simply with the words he uses and the way he says them, he gets the sense that this is not something he extends to others commonly, and there's something in that that intrigues makoto, flatters him, but also makes him somewhat wary. he does understand that the god's "side" doesn't necessarily equate to "Harmonized with Meridian," but... it's not necessarily that which makes makoto uncertain of such an offer. )

When I was first given this body by my master, I was... disappointed with how plain it seemed, lacking certain demonic features. I thought, since I had left my humanity behind and become one, I deserved them, but... my master told me that this would be the only thing he would simply give to me. Everything else, I would have to go out and claim for myself.

( for makoto, it would always come back to J. even in ways he wishes that it wouldn't. perhaps it would be an easier path if he were more willing to take things that were offered to him by others, but this... he just isn't certain. though his memories from horos are not available to him, perhaps there is something deep within him that recognizes that he had been given great strength by the Regent... but it had been lost just as easily, once the situation had changed. )

I won't lie to you. I am hesitant to invest in power given to me by another, which could just as easily be rescinded. ( his lips press into a thin line for just a moment. ) But — if I were to take you up on this offer, I would want to do something to earn it from you.

( set's hands fall to his own, and makoto takes the opportunity to detangle his fingers from the loops of hanging gold, taking them with a ready ease and familiarity that spoke to a certain amount of experience in simple manners of physical affection. he speaks, and he is... bright. enough so that makoto almost feels out of place in the conversation, optimistic and forward-thinking as it has become. despite himself, he ends up smiling slightly, tossing his head to one side as he gives set at least a little bit of advice for free: ) I will keep this well in mind, though... perhaps you would do well to consider this in the future also: there's no fault in being eager, but sharing that with whom you might deal with is losing an advantage you won't be able to retrieve. Keep it close to your heart instead, so they won't know to use it against you.

( he might already know that. but it's already makoto's thought about taking advantage of, so there it is.

makoto raises an eyebrow. this is news to him, though he has up until this point not heard much of exactly what Meridian intends to do with their victory, should it occur. )

If that's the case, I would need to make sure his Shard was in hand first. ( unless Meridian was also offering a "plus one" package. honestly, being able to pick and choose where to go after their so-called restoration of these worlds is news to him, regardless. ) And isn't the only one who can offer such a thing in this place Yima?

vee dont look at my edits im so sorry

[redsoil]

I would expect nothing less from one of the only people [ other than set, who continues to enhance his utility so as to keep the eye of both leaders, ] who actually utilizes himself as a piece upon the field, instead of blindly allowing others to use you for themselves.

[ The tone is scathing, but that sentiment is aimed beyond the two of them. It seeks others, who simply sign on to a faction hinging upon their hopes and desires, rather than practicality or how useful the faction would be. What he looks at this young creature and sees is someone deeply pragmatic, and despite Set's cavorting and carousing, the chaos he embodies is only one aspect of his person — he may not be insightful, nor able to read an individual well, but he is not an idiot. And he is deeply, undeniably pragmatic. ]

And I understand your apprehension, in potentially accepting anything from me.

[ More than Makoto knows, actually. And in a way Set actually will not give away. Not for free, perhaps not even for all the power in the world. ( Fuck you, Osiris. ) The advice that comes from Makoto is received twofold; the brief burn of his tempestuous personality, at being given something that feels patronizing — and more strongly, the acceptance of it. The acquiescence to someone who clearly is experienced in the matter, and whom he knows he would be remiss to refuse the wisdom of. Set is always, always more likely to heed non-humans ( former humans, even ). ]

That is correct. The Lady offers Shards. An individual, a place, a power and this is alluring to many who enjoy instant gratification.

[ The words are sharp, but he is not speaking unkindly of these things. In fact, he is as deeply invested in that 'immediate gratification' as he is in prolonged satisfaction; the two are not mutually exclusive to him, after all! ] Meridian offers an item that tethers one's world to their soul, and many other things. They are known by all to be knowledgeable of time and space, and I find them far more wicked than popular opinion would suggest. Zenith is full of good hearts, seeking better things for themselves and their loved ones in the wake of their perceived losses. Meridian is for the bitter and the bastards, who will fuck over everyone else to get what's already theirs.

[ just as makoto aims for j, his destined sun, meridian aims for their territory, their people. selfish and mean, he finds meridians. ]

[affal]

( makoto regards set with the sharp slyness of someone letting another in on a secret. )

My dear Set, that just means we're ahead of the game, as the others don't even know they're playing and being played yet. Should we be so swift to shed such a preternatural advantage?

( yes, he can feel the characteristic heat that pours off of the world, forging from them a stern indictment of what he would have to assume is many of the other Shard-Bearers that share this earthen tomb with them. makoto believes he sees the shape of what set gets at here — to boil Meridian and Zenith down to their conflicting ideals and what they would make of existence's future and fate is a bit of a disservice to the relationship of a Bearer and their Faction, isn't it? it's not that one can't or shouldn't become invested in what they wish to seed for their future actualization, but one can't become so focused upon the horizon that they lose sight of both the ground they stood upon here and now and the long, winding, treacherous path that might lead them there one day.

still, that's a precarious balance, and it's one that makoto has become very aware of these past few years. the type of eternal existence that their shards offered them could tempt one to stagnancy, indolence, and perhaps these are the traits that set perceived and loathed in his fellows. makoto had certainly done the same among the other demons in Hell he had come across, so content in the comfort of whatever little space they'd clawed out for themselves in its hierarchy that they no longer craned their eyes to the sky and dreamed.

makoto hungers far too deeply to ever become so satisfied, and that's a choice he makes. he could have tempered his desperate craving with all sorts of indulgences over the years, but... he had preferred to keep his teeth and eyes sharp.

as he bares his personal perceptions on those that hail to either Faction, makoto studies set as he might a complex puzzle of interlocking pieces, attempting to figure out the manner by which they conjoin and separate, seeking the pattern that would lead him to its core. he has the differing perspective of one who has viewed both as an outsider looking in, and though his personal experience with them has been limited prior to being trapped within these confines with all of them... )

Are you really so quick to set their natures in stone? ( he shakes his head, quick and birdlike. ) Most people aren't. They're as quick and changeable as water, full of ambivalence and contradiction; mortals especially struggle to contain even what they are naturally predisposed towards, and it causes them to rattle and shake inside, ready to crack along faults that would lead to choices that can seem shocking to any without the insight of their personal context.

( there's a depth belied by what he says, the sudden clarity in his colorless eyes. yes, he knows this all well, thinking back upon the human he had once been. )

When properly wounded, a good heart will surprise you with its cruelty. Similarly... a bitter bastard can surprise you with their sudden fragility.

( he waves one hand in a sweeping gesture. ) I'm not discarding your observations out of hand — I've made several of my own since arriving here, and I will take all into consideration accordingly.

Perhaps... in the event of my potential affiliation with Zenith, I would just hope you don't saddle me with the assumption of a soft and merciful heart. I've worked very hard to have a certain type of reputation, you see.

[redsoil]

[ It is, perhaps, a little obvious that Set is woefully divorced from humanity. His general impression of them all is colored by a long-standing indifference, a violent schism or divorce from what was once his root as an aloof, but protective god; Makoto gives him an admonishment that makes him sit up a little straighter, mind himself a little more. Set has always been more keen to consort with nonhumans, with those possessed of minds that were not confined to mortal parameters, but instead naturally flexible ( or, learnedly flexible ) — capable of keen observations.

He has always been an outsider, among gods and men, gazing in upon lives and experiences that he can hardly fathom. Hardly would like to fathom, until certain events forced him to regard each and every rotting, agonized soul as an individual. ]

I think, that of the overarching Factions. [ Admitted stiffly, stubbornly.

But, Makoto is also correct in a way. Makoto speaks like the demon that Set has selected to mentor him, to provide him context of humanity. ]

The individuals affiliated with both sides, are as you said.

[ No matter if he comports himself as one who cares not for that distinction, what Set says and what Set believes, or does, are often at odds. They ae contrasts among themselves, as he presents himself in one way and exists as another. To address someone terribly, yet admire their conviction, is one such way he, too, is contradictory and elusive. ]

I will always try to work across the divide between these Factions. To close off a path to myself would be foolish, and to look upon you as someone incapable of guile and cleverness would be deadly. While I also enjoy having a particular reputation, I am certain we both acknowledge that a reputation is a weapon to be wielded particularly and precisely.

[ Above all, Set wishes to learn. He hungers for knowledge, and power. ]

— wherever you go, I would find it interesting to continue speaking with you, M.

[affal]

( makoto merely replies with an artfully arched brow and a smile which hooks faintly in the corners of his mouth. diplomatically, he decides not to reply.

because he knows full well that set had spoken specifically of the hearts which lie within Zenith, of those who comprised Meridian. but... who knows. perhaps the distinction is hard for him to make. though he has consorted extensively with demons and monsters, set is the first god he has ever made the acquaintance of; knowing how much his mind had shifted and changed to grow accustomed to the perspective of a demon beyond the limits of mortality (and morality), he can scarcely imagine how much more staggering the viewpoint of an entity which looked down upon the expanse of creation as if it were a board festooned with playthings.

though perhaps it's best he doesn't imagine it. we've already gone over makoto's inherent distaste for the divine; that he warms up to set now, and might continue to do so later, is merely a deviation from the norm.

any such contradiction he might sense within the god is something that he would do so with a sort of wistful comfort and familiarity; it's something that he, in his divinity, shares with demons, as unbound as they were to hate with the freedom of love and love with the viciousness of hate — as wont as they were to express their feelings of compassion by putting abrasions on the hearts they were most devoted to, as honestly and brazenly as they approached the darkest sides of love and lust, sating desires of control, of possession, of consumption, all with a wild and reckless abandon that had shocked makoto to his core when he had been fresh to Hell and still so shockingly "human."

he finds himself curious to see where the boundaries of similarities might range to, and where they might differ starkly. )

I am glad, then, to have met someone with so like a mind as mine.

( perhaps set might sense it on the rising, converging tides of their Communion; they are both equipped with considerable appetite for ambition, though makoto's is far more conditional than set's. he has never been naturally predisposed towards the ravenous consumption of information — he has only ever searched it out when it was a means to an end. as a human teenager he had hid books on anatomy, cannibals, and serial killers in his room, collecting the corpses of roadkill beneath his parents' noses so he could attempt to satisfy his own morbid fascinations in whatever harmless way he could find. in Hell, he had set himself to learning all he could about its structure, its laws, and its hierarchy; he had dove wildly into the fetid underbelly of its slums in order to scrape together whatever information he could find on J's past. to a creature such as him, with no natural gifts or weapons of his own, he had to find his own. he had found them in knowledge, in secrets, in manipulation, in seduction.

he finds an odd sort of kinship that set, a god who by his very right as the divine has been invested with everything that makoto has been denied throughout each of his lives. it's one that, despite its fledgling feeling of fondness... it still curdles with a sense of roiling and indignant anger beneath the surface.

it makes him think about how sweet it would be to best a god at these games which they surprisingly take to playing together. )

You have given me much to think about, Set... and I am grateful for your perspective and insight. Regardless of which of these paths ahead I will choose to walk, you will have influenced my decision.

( said, ironically, before he ends up corrupted, but... c'est la vie. )

Likewise. Until next we meet, then. ( and, as best as one can in a relatively confined space, he will part ways from him there. )