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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arknights: gavial,
- baroque: koriel xii (dextera),
- bastard!!: dark schneider,
- boy's abyss: gen minegishi,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fire emblem: byleth eisner,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): midna,
- locked tomb (the): john gaius,
- oc: liem talbott,
- star wars: cassian andor,
- star wars: jyn erso,
- vampire hunter d: d
Toxic Love: The Exalt Oracle
NOTHING GOES OFF WITHOUT A HITCH
You feel it, the moment that the Exalt oracle opens its eyes, like something that rips through your body from head to toe, something that feel like fire, wild. It sears into your veins, like acid and fire, something that triggers something that makes you want to run, or perhaps turn and face something head on. Before you can find what sets you off – if you could find it. Bearers know what this sensation is, it is different but the same at its core. The emotions, the feelings it sparks are different – but in the end, you know it for what it is: An Oracle.
Kenos groans from the awakening, like a part of a whole sparks to life, and though you do not know what it is that they want yet, you understand and know their existence down to your core. That feeling to attack or defend, perhaps even flee, does not leave you, but instead it fills your veins, you feel it thrumming, pulsing, like the beat of a heart – if one has one. With the sense of awakening, bearers know the shape of what comes next, they will be asked to act, to do. You do not know how it will happen, or what the Exalt will ask of you, but the knowledge that it will happen is borne from experience, not from the Oracle itself.
As you begin to move, to… look, you are not long for this day, it clouds your mind, a hazy, drowsy feeling takes over, the encroaching dark that threatens to swarm, crowding from the sides, taking over your vision – until… it fully takes over, and Bearers are put into a deep slumber.
When bearers awaken, it’s difficult to make sense of what your sleepy eyes see. Structures begin to swim into view, and they like tall figures looking down upon you. It’s difficult to tell what they are at first, but as you wake up, you begin to see, they are not people, or creatures, but long spore-like stalks. Some have ribbed overgrowths that you can see, and some end in growths that ripple and hang over, but have no “cap”. They tower over the bearers, like towering spires and buildings, on all sides, as if they were trapped in a ring of them. As bearers look around them they will notice tall green spires around them as well, and it takes a moment for things to really settle in. Mushrooms. Blades of grass. The springy moss about them is almost as tall as they are, low to the ground. There are pebbles that appear as boulders, and the thunderous steps nearby indicate an insect or arachnid walking by, far larger than you. There is a stillness to this space, like a held breath, and as the bearers awake, and regard one another, and then to the center of the circle is – a small effigy in the center.
It is here, the Exalt Oracle, and you feel compelled to regard it, before you are given a pang down to your core. It compels you – pleads, asks, begs, and demands, all in one – for what it wishes for. Precious mementos and precious items that they are missing. They have been lost, and they are somewhere within the Liosachán. It beseeches the bearers to return its items, and begs they be returned here to the circle. There are no words, but there is a pleading sensation, a feeling that these items are treasured by this Oracle.
You feel at your sides, your pockets, and find one item on your person, a weapon, a companion, whatever it is you would bring with you to the conflict, shrunk down to a tiny size with you.
Stay steadfast, bearers, and capture theflag Oracle!
Kenos groans from the awakening, like a part of a whole sparks to life, and though you do not know what it is that they want yet, you understand and know their existence down to your core. That feeling to attack or defend, perhaps even flee, does not leave you, but instead it fills your veins, you feel it thrumming, pulsing, like the beat of a heart – if one has one. With the sense of awakening, bearers know the shape of what comes next, they will be asked to act, to do. You do not know how it will happen, or what the Exalt will ask of you, but the knowledge that it will happen is borne from experience, not from the Oracle itself.
As you begin to move, to… look, you are not long for this day, it clouds your mind, a hazy, drowsy feeling takes over, the encroaching dark that threatens to swarm, crowding from the sides, taking over your vision – until… it fully takes over, and Bearers are put into a deep slumber.
When bearers awaken, it’s difficult to make sense of what your sleepy eyes see. Structures begin to swim into view, and they like tall figures looking down upon you. It’s difficult to tell what they are at first, but as you wake up, you begin to see, they are not people, or creatures, but long spore-like stalks. Some have ribbed overgrowths that you can see, and some end in growths that ripple and hang over, but have no “cap”. They tower over the bearers, like towering spires and buildings, on all sides, as if they were trapped in a ring of them. As bearers look around them they will notice tall green spires around them as well, and it takes a moment for things to really settle in. Mushrooms. Blades of grass. The springy moss about them is almost as tall as they are, low to the ground. There are pebbles that appear as boulders, and the thunderous steps nearby indicate an insect or arachnid walking by, far larger than you. There is a stillness to this space, like a held breath, and as the bearers awake, and regard one another, and then to the center of the circle is – a small effigy in the center.
It is here, the Exalt Oracle, and you feel compelled to regard it, before you are given a pang down to your core. It compels you – pleads, asks, begs, and demands, all in one – for what it wishes for. Precious mementos and precious items that they are missing. They have been lost, and they are somewhere within the Liosachán. It beseeches the bearers to return its items, and begs they be returned here to the circle. There are no words, but there is a pleading sensation, a feeling that these items are treasured by this Oracle.
You feel at your sides, your pockets, and find one item on your person, a weapon, a companion, whatever it is you would bring with you to the conflict, shrunk down to a tiny size with you.
Stay steadfast, bearers, and capture the
SURVIVAL OF THE SMALLEST ( DAYS 1 - 5 )
Unlike the still, stale apocalypse that had been the setting of the Iconoclast Oracle, the greenhouse is lush and vibrant with activity.
The Effigy present within yearns to be reunited with what belongs to it, fixated upon the five items lost within the greenhouse. The swell of its longing fills all Shardbearers, urging them to take action, claim the items and present all five to it to attain victory for that Faction.
Over a period of ten days, Shardbearers of both factions will have to navigate environmental dangers, and the normal procession of time, as the greenhouse is going about its daily routine. Workers plod around like towering goliaths, weeding and watering and pruning the greenhouse's contents. The Liosachán's native population of fae begin to take notice of the newcomers in their midst, emerging from grassy mounds hidden in the natural landscape to spy and pry about the newness surrounding them.
For Shardbearers demonstrating particular selflessness, favoring the protection and defense of another, the Effigy responds warmly from the third day onward — rewarding them with a sign of their dutiful nature towards others in the form of fairy wings, the form of which are unique to the Shardbearer themselves.
DAY FOUR. The sudden thunderous sound of a storm begins. No, not a storm, the tumble and crash of water pouring down upon the greenhouse — the workers of the Liosachán perform their routines faithfully, after all. In watering the garden, the danger of the environment threatens to overtake Shardbearers and their work alike. Drops of water fall, their size equal or larger than even the tallest of characters, and trickles of water muddy the ground in the form of raging rapids.
The security of Meridian and Zenith's camps is even called into question, because as simple as the act of watering a garden is, it is a nightmarish situation for such itty bitty Bearers to be in!
DAY FIVE. By day five, the fae of the Liosachán no longer lurk and linger in the corner of one's eye. They make themselves known, having prepared a banquet below one of the mushrooms, within sight of the Effigy. A table draped in spider-silk lace awaits any Bearer who comes near enough, the sagging piece of driftwood polished to a gleam with golden sap, leaving it waterproofed and pretty to behold. A handful of corks serve as seating, with most of the fae draping themselves across scraps of cotton as though they are simply at a picnic.
They invitingly wave to Shardbearers, chattering brightly in their foreign, lilting tongue, waving tiny sandwiches and little clay pots full of jams and honeys, brandishing sugared berries that they bite into with gusto, staining their arms and faces in swathes of blue and red. They clearly are welcoming to whomever comes upon them, urging them to avail themselves to the bounty they have prepared. Perhaps some characters know better than to eat the food of the fae, recalling legends and lore about the mystical properties and implicit bargains made in becoming a guest. Perhaps some have no idea, and are simply hungry enough to dig in!
The Effigy present within yearns to be reunited with what belongs to it, fixated upon the five items lost within the greenhouse. The swell of its longing fills all Shardbearers, urging them to take action, claim the items and present all five to it to attain victory for that Faction.
Over a period of ten days, Shardbearers of both factions will have to navigate environmental dangers, and the normal procession of time, as the greenhouse is going about its daily routine. Workers plod around like towering goliaths, weeding and watering and pruning the greenhouse's contents. The Liosachán's native population of fae begin to take notice of the newcomers in their midst, emerging from grassy mounds hidden in the natural landscape to spy and pry about the newness surrounding them.
Naturally curious, and equally dangerous, the fae of the Liosachán are Highstorm natives. They range in cool coloration, from soft violet-greys to deep stormy blues, and wear clothes fashioned from of goods pilfered from the pockets of workers, dropped on the ground or handcrafted from the environment itself. Wielding bits of copper tightly wound into blades and spears, they are a ferocious and cunning little people who seek to trick, trap and toy with Shardbearers. Direct violence is anathema to them, but violence that happens as a result of falling to one of their ploys is a badge of honor.DAY ONE - THREE. The Effigy initially urges Shardbearers to build bases of operation for defense and practicality, as surviving ten days without supporting one another is a surefire way to meet a grisly, tiny little end. Resources must be gathered: gather food and water, prepare shelter, establish unity and organization and prepare to set off into the wilds soon.
For Shardbearers demonstrating particular selflessness, favoring the protection and defense of another, the Effigy responds warmly from the third day onward — rewarding them with a sign of their dutiful nature towards others in the form of fairy wings, the form of which are unique to the Shardbearer themselves.
DAY FOUR. The sudden thunderous sound of a storm begins. No, not a storm, the tumble and crash of water pouring down upon the greenhouse — the workers of the Liosachán perform their routines faithfully, after all. In watering the garden, the danger of the environment threatens to overtake Shardbearers and their work alike. Drops of water fall, their size equal or larger than even the tallest of characters, and trickles of water muddy the ground in the form of raging rapids.
The security of Meridian and Zenith's camps is even called into question, because as simple as the act of watering a garden is, it is a nightmarish situation for such itty bitty Bearers to be in!
DAY FIVE. By day five, the fae of the Liosachán no longer lurk and linger in the corner of one's eye. They make themselves known, having prepared a banquet below one of the mushrooms, within sight of the Effigy. A table draped in spider-silk lace awaits any Bearer who comes near enough, the sagging piece of driftwood polished to a gleam with golden sap, leaving it waterproofed and pretty to behold. A handful of corks serve as seating, with most of the fae draping themselves across scraps of cotton as though they are simply at a picnic.
They invitingly wave to Shardbearers, chattering brightly in their foreign, lilting tongue, waving tiny sandwiches and little clay pots full of jams and honeys, brandishing sugared berries that they bite into with gusto, staining their arms and faces in swathes of blue and red. They clearly are welcoming to whomever comes upon them, urging them to avail themselves to the bounty they have prepared. Perhaps some characters know better than to eat the food of the fae, recalling legends and lore about the mystical properties and implicit bargains made in becoming a guest. Perhaps some have no idea, and are simply hungry enough to dig in!
UNWILLING TEN-ANTS ( DAYS SIX - EIGHT )
The scuttling, scrabbling feet of ants crawling over surfaces, winding their way through this grassy playground, has become normal. Their feet thunder as they go about their business, and it seems to be a normal cadence to life here in the underbrush, in the greenhouse. It is normal, and it is has become nothing to really concern oneself with. They are ants, after all, what do they do, but work? Endlessly, continuously.
That is, until the heavy, loud sounds of their feet draw closer to whatever place that the bearers have found to camp in. Whether solitary or as a group, these workers are no longer content to simply ignore the bearers, but they are a curiosity, perhaps even a bother. You have disrupted their lifestyle. The sleepy pattern of obtain food, return ot the hive, and back out again now has obstacles. Now there are not simply the fairies, who live their own lives and existences, a part of the ecosystem, but now there are these tiny bearers. Fighting, working together, arguing and disagreeing.
You are disruptive to their way of life.
The ants have come to collect on this due, and some bearers that are vulnerable, or perhaps merely caught, are taken away, your weight so light compared to the rest of their burdens that they carry. The strength of these ants is overwhelming, incredible at this size, and try as you might, if you are caught in their strong mandibles, you cannot escape. An ant, after all, carries 1000 times their weight with those powerful jaws. You, bearer, are nothing to them.
They squirrel away the bearers within their hill, a complicated network of tunnels, junctions, and large spaces. Down within, where the air becomes stifling, and stale. The ants guard their pray, and you get the distinct sense that they see you not as people, not even as enemies, but as prey. You will be food – perhaps to the eggs that are gathered within this room, where you can see the stirring of new life, just beneath the surface. You may not have very long to live, if these little larvae get their mouths on you.
Or perhaps, your friends will save you? Once it is discovered that bearers are missing, the trail of ant prints on the ground is apparent – they are not stealthy creatures – and the feet lead from the locations of several kidnapped bearers toward the grainy ant hill that lies not far away. The hill itself swarms with life, with worker ants all over the surface, scuttling about, looking for the next meal for te colony. Or perhaps for more bearers to bring back for their young.
It will be dangerous, bearers, to save your friends. Should you choose to do so, you will be kicking the anthill, and the ants will protect what is theirs. Even if they just took it. Those bearers belong to them, now! Rescuers will find not only your average worker ant, ready to defend, but winged male ants will attack from above, and deeper, within the nest, near where the bearers are kept, lies the strongest ant in the colony: The Queen. Staggeringly large, strong, and vicious, when her subjects begin dying. She will do everything in her power to protect her colony, and that includes killing bearers, if need be. Or trying, at least.
Good luck rescuing your friends, bearers!
That is, until the heavy, loud sounds of their feet draw closer to whatever place that the bearers have found to camp in. Whether solitary or as a group, these workers are no longer content to simply ignore the bearers, but they are a curiosity, perhaps even a bother. You have disrupted their lifestyle. The sleepy pattern of obtain food, return ot the hive, and back out again now has obstacles. Now there are not simply the fairies, who live their own lives and existences, a part of the ecosystem, but now there are these tiny bearers. Fighting, working together, arguing and disagreeing.
You are disruptive to their way of life.
The ants have come to collect on this due, and some bearers that are vulnerable, or perhaps merely caught, are taken away, your weight so light compared to the rest of their burdens that they carry. The strength of these ants is overwhelming, incredible at this size, and try as you might, if you are caught in their strong mandibles, you cannot escape. An ant, after all, carries 1000 times their weight with those powerful jaws. You, bearer, are nothing to them.
They squirrel away the bearers within their hill, a complicated network of tunnels, junctions, and large spaces. Down within, where the air becomes stifling, and stale. The ants guard their pray, and you get the distinct sense that they see you not as people, not even as enemies, but as prey. You will be food – perhaps to the eggs that are gathered within this room, where you can see the stirring of new life, just beneath the surface. You may not have very long to live, if these little larvae get their mouths on you.
Or perhaps, your friends will save you? Once it is discovered that bearers are missing, the trail of ant prints on the ground is apparent – they are not stealthy creatures – and the feet lead from the locations of several kidnapped bearers toward the grainy ant hill that lies not far away. The hill itself swarms with life, with worker ants all over the surface, scuttling about, looking for the next meal for te colony. Or perhaps for more bearers to bring back for their young.
It will be dangerous, bearers, to save your friends. Should you choose to do so, you will be kicking the anthill, and the ants will protect what is theirs. Even if they just took it. Those bearers belong to them, now! Rescuers will find not only your average worker ant, ready to defend, but winged male ants will attack from above, and deeper, within the nest, near where the bearers are kept, lies the strongest ant in the colony: The Queen. Staggeringly large, strong, and vicious, when her subjects begin dying. She will do everything in her power to protect her colony, and that includes killing bearers, if need be. Or trying, at least.
Good luck rescuing your friends, bearers!
IN SMALL PACKAGES ( DAYS NINE - TEN )
The day after the ant-pocalypse brings with it the brush of recognition — the Effigy has foreseen the likely victors, and calls to them to approach it once they have suitably recovered. It judges them the ones whom are most devoted to what binds them, loyal to memory and remembrance, and begins to clamor for them to restore to it what belongs rightfully. Thus begins a full day of resting, locating last-minute items, shoring up defenses and preparing for the sprint to the finish line.
Certainly your rivals will not allow you to simply walk to the Effigy unassailed and unchallenged.
Eat, rest, ensure your fellows are close and bolstered, for tomorrow begins the final rally.
On the morning of the tenth day, Meridian Shardbearers approach the Effigy with its five items in hand. In the midst of the mushroom ring, the Effigy stands as it had in the beginning — arms outstretched and back bowed skyward, gnarled fingers seeking contact with that which has been lost to it. It awaits, it strains, and even as it does, it requires one last test of ability. From the shadows of the towering mushrooms, the rasp of scale and soft hiss of a great beast descends upon the fae ring.
A gleaming garden snake, with glossy black and green stripes, blocks the way between approaching Shardbearers and the Effigy.
Between its bright eyes, pressed upon its brow is a scattering of brighter scales that appear to be in the shape of a delicate, three-leafed plant with spiraling patterns for leaves. It braces itself against the approach, and there is no doubt that to claim victory, the serpent must be subdued. Though Meridian approaches with victory in hand, they have not yet attained it — their rival faction and this beast remain in their way.
Certainly your rivals will not allow you to simply walk to the Effigy unassailed and unchallenged.
Eat, rest, ensure your fellows are close and bolstered, for tomorrow begins the final rally.
On the morning of the tenth day, Meridian Shardbearers approach the Effigy with its five items in hand. In the midst of the mushroom ring, the Effigy stands as it had in the beginning — arms outstretched and back bowed skyward, gnarled fingers seeking contact with that which has been lost to it. It awaits, it strains, and even as it does, it requires one last test of ability. From the shadows of the towering mushrooms, the rasp of scale and soft hiss of a great beast descends upon the fae ring.
A gleaming garden snake, with glossy black and green stripes, blocks the way between approaching Shardbearers and the Effigy.
Between its bright eyes, pressed upon its brow is a scattering of brighter scales that appear to be in the shape of a delicate, three-leafed plant with spiraling patterns for leaves. It braces itself against the approach, and there is no doubt that to claim victory, the serpent must be subdued. Though Meridian approaches with victory in hand, they have not yet attained it — their rival faction and this beast remain in their way.
MISSING LINKS ( THROUGHOUT )
As the Effigy desires to be reunited with what belongs to it, the swell of its longing stirs something more within all present Shardbearers.
With that foreign longing arrives knowledge: beyond the five items prized by the Effigy itself, there are other lost things within the greenhouse. Like a compass, each Shardbearer's mind points them in direction after direction, urging them to seek and explore. Implicitly, the thrum of comprehension fills your mind: these are things that do not belong to you, per se, but seek to have your hands ferry them home.
Amidst tangled brush, hidden under doffed acorn cap, tucked away in the belly of a fae's glittering den, lost in the depths of a puddle of spilled water that seems an insurmountable lake now, folded secretly into the petals of a towering, skyscraper-like flower, there are three additional items hidden within the tumultuous landscape that each Shardbearer feels a draw towards. Things that belong to someone else, eager to be reunited with them, but subject to whim.
Upon locating and retrieving one, the Shardbearer is filled with a sense of information — they know who this item belongs to, and they will know that they have a choice. Bonds are fragile things after all, and they exist to be enforced or abused, in order to advance a goal or to deepen a connection. How will you treat someone's precious bond? How will they treat yours?
With that foreign longing arrives knowledge: beyond the five items prized by the Effigy itself, there are other lost things within the greenhouse. Like a compass, each Shardbearer's mind points them in direction after direction, urging them to seek and explore. Implicitly, the thrum of comprehension fills your mind: these are things that do not belong to you, per se, but seek to have your hands ferry them home.
Amidst tangled brush, hidden under doffed acorn cap, tucked away in the belly of a fae's glittering den, lost in the depths of a puddle of spilled water that seems an insurmountable lake now, folded secretly into the petals of a towering, skyscraper-like flower, there are three additional items hidden within the tumultuous landscape that each Shardbearer feels a draw towards. Things that belong to someone else, eager to be reunited with them, but subject to whim.
Upon locating and retrieving one, the Shardbearer is filled with a sense of information — they know who this item belongs to, and they will know that they have a choice. Bonds are fragile things after all, and they exist to be enforced or abused, in order to advance a goal or to deepen a connection. How will you treat someone's precious bond? How will they treat yours?
NOTES
Here are some prompts to set the scene and foundation of the Exalt Oracle!
— The theme of this Oracle is a loose edition of capture the flag, where the Effigy's items can pass through multiple hands within the ten day allotment.
— For additional ideas and fun, it is known that several Shardbearers have concluded their efforts to fulfill the Greenwood Yards' sidequest request.
— All details of the Exalt Oracle can be found here, and questions for the mods can be submitted here.
— For additional ideas and fun, it is known that several Shardbearers have concluded their efforts to fulfill the Greenwood Yards' sidequest request.
— All details of the Exalt Oracle can be found here, and questions for the mods can be submitted here.
cassian —
Amos is someone who has spent much of his life ensuring that he isn’t small. Never again. And while this isn’t exactly what he had in mind — didn’t think he would ever have to have in mind, because seriously, what — at least he isn’t alone in it. At least it’s something that should be temporary.
That, and sitting around sullenly doesn’t really do anything. They need to set up camp? Make a shelter for themselves? Alright, he’ll get to work on just that.
… However the fuck this is supposed to work when everything is so much bigger than him.
It’s when he’s out scouting for supplies somewhere — a gigantic pebble lifted precariously over his head, Amos in the process of carrying it back to where Zenith’s camp is just getting set up — that he first spots Cassian, and something he hadn’t thought about before clicks. ]
Hey, [ and, for however much he can get his voice to actually project as Amos slowly starts to make his way over to him — why are pebbles so heavy now. This sucks — ] where’ve you been?
[ You’re helping set up Zenith camp too, right? ]
no subject
it'd be harder for cassian to wrap his head around if he were newer to kenos; but after the better part of half a standard year, he sets to work quickly enough with a typical brisk efficiency. amos isn't the only one scouting supplies today — where he carries a big pebble, cassian currently is managing a flower petal, two-handed, on which a dewdrop sparkles. the water slides precariously as he walks, but he's unanxious for his wariness. they won't immediately dehydrate if he does drop this but also, like, they could use the water.
his head comes up when he hears himself hailed. there's the makings of a faint smile on his face as he recognizes amos, before that question is asked. his only visible reaction is a crease between his brows, but that might be enough for the observant. ]
Here? [ he keeps his tone light. ] There's some water by the mushrooms, [ which is true, but not where he got this droplet, ] that I've been collecting.
no subject
(Life is so weird right now.)
Amos hoists his pebble that little bit higher to properly see Cassian's face, and also to set it back down on the ground as carefully as he can, so its massive weight doesn't disrupt anything. Because yeah, he's not going to carry out a conversation while straining to keep it above him. He heaves out a sigh when his arms are free again, stretching them out in front of him now that he's got a reprieve from heavy lifting. ]
Yeah? Hey, that's good. You'll have to show me once I've got enough of these things — [ fucking boulder-pebbles — ] set up to give us a solid base.
[ A beat. He cocks his head, not catching anything amiss, except. ]
You're going the wrong way though.
[ Does he need to lead Cassian back to camp... Not really sure how someone with that good of a head on his shoulders managed to get all twisted around, but would explain why Amos hasn't seen him around as of late. ]
no subject
he likes amos, and so it's a shame about this conversation. he has an idea of how this will go over. he has an idea of how much he could expect amos, who had been part of the reason he chose zenith in the first place, to understand his decision. especially when he can't provide the context, the real reason for his choice. amos isn't the first person he's let down for reasons he couldn't explain; he probably won't be the last. ]
I'm not.
[ going the wrong way, that is. he doesn't make to put down his burden yet, dewdrop precariously balanced in his arms. ]
I'm going the right way, for Meridian.
[ and a part of him thinks: his blaster is missing. and a part of him thinks: he knows how long it would take for him to reach for his knife, if it comes to that. he could buy seconds by throwing the dew in amos's face. enough? maybe. if it comes to that. ]
no subject
Not a whole lot changes, but he blinks. And with it the light smile that had been gracing his face becomes empty, amicable glint to his eye going dark. His expression turns dead, no longer a person looking to help his friend. Less like an actual person at all, more a vessel for brutality. ]
That so? Huh.
[ There's a weird, bright quality to his voice — too engaged with the situation at hand. He looks Cassian up and down, sizing him up. They match one another in weaponry; Amos also without a blaster, Amos with the dagger that Yima gave him the better part of a year ago sheathed at his side.
He does not reach for it, because that would be an overreaction. At least right now, it would be — but this is an Oracle fight, and maybe in a few seconds it'll be necessary.
(He does not reach for it, because he has far dirtier tricks in the form of magic up his sleeve that don't require so much as sleight of hand.)
Amos blinks, gaze clicking from Cassian's hands to his petal to his eyes as he does. His voice is still far too cheerful. ]
Why them?
no subject
amos's expression hollows; the genuine friendliness fades. not huge changes, no, but also impossible to miss, for a man watching for them. for a spy whose life has often depended on his ability to read other people and assess them for danger. cassian's eyes flick over amos, catch the lack of a gun, catch the knife. catch the lack of reaching for either, even by reflex. his own expression cools from the rueful friendliness to something more sincere and more inscrutable. this isn't a conversation between friends anymore, but a meridian and a zenite. a brawler and a spy. amos burton is a true believer. cassian has known that from the start.
enough of one to kill him now? he's not sure. depends on what amos considers posing a threat to zenite victory, likely.
he cants his head, shrugs carefully. ]
Would it make a difference to you?
no subject
[ The words are casual, his voice still unnaturally chipper. He's sensed the shift in Cassian, as well — the air cool between them now, a temperature that could turn hot at a moment's notice, should either of them make a move.
Neither of them seems particularly inclined to make a move, though. This is just posturing by two egoless guys, and that's fine, actually. It means anything is unlikely to actually happen between them, which means that even as Amos tips his head back to continue surveying Cassian — just in case — he has no qualms about languidly crossing his arms over his chest. A sign that even though his body is on high alert, he is, ultimately, relaxed. Not interested in starting shit just for the sake of it.
That, and he does genuinely want to know, because. ]
But it might to others. I want to know about that.
[ How do I make sure people are happy with Zenith? How do I make sure nobody else ever wants to leave? ]
no subject
what good would it do? amos isn't his enemy, not really.
he breathes out, closes his eyes for a moment, opens them and looks back to amos. he could lie. he certainly can't reveal the whole answer. what he does, instead, is tell part of the truth. ]
I meant what I said, about the factions. I think we have bigger problems to worry about.
[ but that's not an answer, really. if both factions are the same to him, why switch? (why not switch?) after a moment, he shrugs. ]
Even if Yima really can make us a new world... [ and there's a hint of real longing in his voice that he can't suppress ] ...what will the cost be? Destroying worlds, and galaxies, that are still alive out there? [ he shakes his head. ] I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, but this? It got to me.
[ is half-true. maybe even three-quarters true. there have been so many nights he couldn't sleep, since joining zenith, wondering how many souls he'd be consigning to oblivion to destroy the empire. wondering how many dreams he'd be crushing, knowing some of them among the meridian with stunning clarity. wondering what would happen to even his galaxy, to everyone alive last he saw them, if yima made profound changes to the fabric of its reality at his behest. he could make himself this monster, to destroy the empire. he has it in him. but it's so hard, and for what? a promise from a woman he doesn't even trust? ]
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It's with a relaxed gaze that Amos looks over him. Searches his eyes as he answers. And sees nothing dishonest in them, because it doesn't occur to him to look for that; because... ]
You're a good person.
[ There; he'll sum it up succinctly for Cassian to hear. Amos leans back against the pebble-boulder he'd been carrying, fully relaxed now. He'll skip over the idea of there being bigger problems than the Oracles, over the blip of doubt in Yima (Cassian still wants what she can provide. Who wouldn't?). Focus on the meat of his answer. ]
Never really thought of it that way before, that we might be taking out others to do this. [ And what does that say about him; except Amos already knew it was in his nature to disregard people at large, so, nothing new really. ] Kinda figured that all of 'em would be headed down this path eventually. Might be doing some of them a favour if they're still out there, actually. You know. Like a mercy kill.
[ Which are not for the faint of heart. So Amos makes a note: some on his side will need to be sheltered. He's used to protecting people from those particular realities. He can keep doing it, no problem. ]
But I hear ya. It's not for everyone. [ That is a compliment in his voice, because Cassian is synonymous with good person. ] Not a bad thing to consider, at least.
[ ... For normal people. Which Amos is not. Because he's considered it in the seconds Cassian suggested it and then immediately moved on. People die every day; so what? That's why Zenith needs people like him — people who can look the harsh realities of life in the eye and move on to do what needs to be done. For the greater good.
Because with Yima, there is a greater good, and he will help fulfil it.
Maybe Cassian will too, one day, if he can see that again. It'd be nice. ]
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but luckily, amos doesn't linger on that point; and so cassian tries to relax as much as the other man clearly has. tries to focus on that answer. because it makes sense, in its ways. it makes sense to amos, at least. the fact that creating a new world might mean destroying all of the old having never really occurred to him, bothered him; the fact that it being brought up now is as easily swatted away as a cloud fly. amos isn't bothered by the idea. of course he isn't.
silco had mentioned the possibility to cassian almost upon his arrival in kenos, and it's always haunted him. always made him second-guess his commitment to zenith, even when he was part of it. he doesn't know if he thinks their galaxy can be saved, but the ones that are left — could he kill them for his dream of a crushed empire?
amos could. like a mercy kill. and maybe that is what yima would be doing, but they have no certainty of that. no certainty of the better future she promises. he doesn't bother saying as much; it would wash over amos just as much as the rest, maybe insult him by insulting his faction and his cause. it isn't the instigating reason why he switched to meridian, but it is part of the reason why he wanted to. truth enough, for this conversation. ]
I'm sorry. I should've said something to you.
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And, because he's not the one facing any internal barriers or dilemmas here, he shrugs it off — Cassian's fretting, his processing of whatever it is going on his head, his apology. Well, maybe not entirely his apology, Amos offering a little half-shrug as the words slip out of his mouth. ]
Yeah, maybe. Would've been nice to know earlier. Then we could've been having this conversation at a bar instead of being worried about getting lost in a patch of grass. Probably would've been better for both of us.
[ But he still doesn't sound too bothered by it, voice still pleasant and conversational and without any underlying threats there. Like, if you think about it, Cassian did fuck them both over a little in not being upfront, but it isn't life or death. Just a missed drink.
... Although, speaking of life and death. Amos straightens himself up from his boulder-pebble, stretching his arms out in front of him. Probably gonna be picking it up again soon, so don't wanna go in cold. It's like he's warming up to lift weights. A very big weight. And there's a certain physicality to that that can't be avoided — even if his voice stays as plain and cheerful as before. ]
'cept that now that you're with them. [ He really won't even say Meridian directly. ] How much does that mean I've gotta watch out for you down here?
[ Are you a threat?
Because of course Cassian would answer that honestly, who wouldn't. ]