THE SOOT OF IGNORANCE: RISING ACTION

[beleos]

BETWEEN UNCONTROLLED ESCALATION & UNENDING PASSIVITY

The moonlit city of Highstorm has always been a tranquil location.

Its people, passionate about the steady leadership of Zenith's leader — Lady Yima — begin their movements slowly and deliberately. Following the lead of their most trusted Shard-Bearers and the word of their Lady, activity in Highstorm begins to increase in the vicinity of Yima's Manor. The Court, the town square outside of it, becomes a hotbed of bustle and voices. Personnel and attendants rush around with documentation, stirring others to action. A select few figures gather the full force of their long-standing houses, calling on family bonds and their own castellans to assist the efforts that build over the course of a few days.

For the tranquility of Highstorm is only ever punctuated by its decisiveness, its faith that their path is the correct one — and now, they will prove it.

In a trickle-down effort, from the most loyal Zenites to the newest, the news unfolds for them: Amos Burton has been tasked by Lady Yima herself to turn the tides back in Zenith's favor. He is to end the life of the 34th Tribune, Cyrus Marcius Germanus Kokkinos, alongside the fortune who have found their way into Zenith's graces. In the earliest hours of the invasion, the figure of Yima herself steps out onto the balcony of her quarters — the highest point of the Manor — with her robes soft around her body and hands extended to her people. Her silence is punctuated by glowing feelings of pride that flow through the hearts and minds of every last sworn Zenite, bolstering their resolve and encouraging them with the cool, ever-flowing might of the people who look to Zenith's Shard-Bearers for their victory.

She sees them off with unspoken sentiments of love, confidence in them — the whispered promises that she knows they are ready to see the war through. And perhaps none of them will know that it is the last time they see her.

For in the sun-dappled sprawl of Springstar, their target awaits them.

The bustle of the city has always been without reservation; the bright and airy attitudes of militant citizenry look on with confidence and celebratory warmth as their Shard-Bearers have brought them to a marginal advancement over their enemies. While Tribune Cyrus's popularity has waned, there are alternative avenues they have begun to explore — the figure of Agapitos Voreen has become deeply popular, with savvy statements, an easy confidence and a willingness to deny Zenith any room to breathe, he is a shoe-in for future Tribune, whenever the next elections are held.

Which is why, in between one moment and the next, the city is rocked by the efforts of their opposition. Zenite-aligned Shard-Bearers and the small house armies of Yima's most loyal core families fill the streets with chaotic distractions, ranging from duels with the Helios Legionnaire to direct attacks on civilians. ( Where does your character draw the line, if they care to? Will it matter in the long run, do they believe? ) Appearing from several Cornerstones hidden within the city's confines from missions long past, tracking the movements of Legionnaires and Shard-Bearers alike from the placement of listening gems and tracking spells, even rising from the bowels of Kowloon to trap the city in a pincer movement — Highstorm goes on the offensive.

Springstar puts up a valiant resistance in return; however, within twenty-four hours, Zenite Shard-Bearers will have hunted down, cornered and slain the Tribune. In that moment, Meridian-aligned Shard-Bearers will feel a splitting pain: the suddenness of having an integral element of their power ripped from them, the sensation akin to being crushed, gasping under the weight of Zenith's swell. The last trickle of emotion from Cyrus for them is a gentle warmth, fondness and forgiveness and the purity of his confidence in them. He believes in them, he always has, and he prays and hopes for their victory even though he will not be around to see it become reality, now.

His death is announced the following day by his assistant Cetina, the deer-morph girl choking back angry tears as she — with a furious and tearful General Ayo Zaman and the somber, mournful figure of Hieropoios Natalia at her side — lambasts Highstorm for the act of aggression, attempts to rouse the city and Meridian's hope, and pledges that she will not let her best friend's murderers escape her vengeance.

Hours after Cetina's message, in the far corner of Highstorm — following the people's celebrations and rejoicing in their strike, the delight in the might of their Shard-Bearers and the renewed passions of their people in pursuit of their victory — a brilliant, golden beam of sunlight pierces the eternal night of the city.

In an instant, the balcony upon which Yima had stood and the rooms beyond it — in fact, the entirety of the Manor, is engulfed in fire and light. The Manor falls, crumbling in upon itself as debris cascades into the living quarters of Shard-bearers and partially topples into the Court beyond. While the Tree of Life, the Reflecting Pools and many businesses around the Court escape extensive damage, the Manor itself is in shambles. And in the wake, many Zenite Shard-Bearers will feel the suddenness of having an integral element of their power ripped from them, the sensation akin to being crushed, gasping under the weight of Meridian's swell. In the wake of the strike, there is a deep silence within them.

Any attempts to contact Yima are met with the same silence a Shard-Bearer feels when reaching out to another who has left the world entirely. And with that, both sides are left to pick up the pieces and weigh the consequences of their actions.

ADDITIONAL MATTERS

During ( and in the wake of both assaults ), there is plenty for any Unharmonized Shard-Bearers and more moderate Meris/Zenites to partake in. Damage has been wrought to both cities at differing times, and there is a degree of life lost no matter the best efforts of those who value innocents over the price enacted by acts of war.

In Springstar, the citizenry has been ravaged by attacks stemming from the depths of Kowloon: as monsters in the form of both individuals with unusual appetites (cannibals and vampires, for example) and heavily-drugged, superpowered addicts have been finding their way into the city, slaughtering civilians indiscreetly, picking fights with the Legionary, and engaging in general criminal mischief and violence. Following Zenith's assault and subsequent assassination, the city will be on high alert and be deeply hostile toward Zenith-aligned Shard-Bearers, as well as mistrustful towards any Unharmonized ( for good reason: they might still Harmonize with Zenith! ). After the day of the attack, the attacks drop off significantly, but do not vanish entirely, for now that some have gotten a taste, it will take time for Yura to reign them in once more.

The people of the city turn to their Shard-Bearers in the wake of their Tribune's murder; even though his popularity had waned, it isn't as though his death doesn't affect them! Deeply concerned and frightened for their future, they demand information about what will be done to protect the city from another assault like this? Some civilians will turn to the church, or perhaps community leaders, but it seems very few turn to the legionary, after they were so focused on the attacks that they missed the forest for the trees. Their trust in their military leaders is waning, and they’re looking for answer. Some community leaders have tried to soften the hurt and anger of Springstar’s people, but they look toward those whom were not a part of the current establishment to answers.

In Highstorm, Yima's Manor lays in shambles, but the rest of the city is unharmed. Shard-Bearers who were living in the Manor will find that their living quarters suffered from the collapse and subsequent fires, but any precious items/belongings they had in their rooms can be recovered after sifting through the rubble. One of Yima’s most trusted, Florence, seems to be taking the reigns of control, and while there are still pockets of the manor that remain on the outskirts of the building itself, she encourages any Zenites who had not moved out to move on quickly, since what is left should be used by any newcomers who need shelter, and not those whom have had the opportunity to make bonds, and have allies that they can rely on.

The main issue now plaguing Zenites is the sudden, overwhelming crowd that begins to gather in the Court, demanding information from them about Yima's safety — they are frantic, and rightfully concerned about further assaults of that incendiary degree from Meridian. The city will be on high alert and be deeply hostile toward Meridian-aligned Shard-Bearers, as well as mistrustful towards any Unharmonized ( for good reason: they might still Harmonize with Meridian! ). The Manor itself is almost entirely destroyed, with only a shell of the outskirts left, and though those who are left are already trying to sift through the rubble, they are often overcome by their sorrow, and it is not uncommon in the wake of Meridian’s destruction to find some of Yima’s most loyal in distress, for the loss of their leader.

A LIGHTHOUSE AGAINST THE ENCROACHING STORM

A few months ago, all current Shard-Bearers experienced a mass dreaming event, full of teeming darkness and a pervasive sense of terror. Following the death of Cyrus and the "presumed loss" of Yima, all Shard-Bearers will receive yet another dream.

This one is a simple, direct thing: rife with a haunting sense of being watched, observed as if from the reeds and brush by a hunter. Whatever your power level, however skilled you are and confident you are in your place, your decisions, your heart will quake before the severe impression of something prowling at your heels. Just out of sight, but never out of mind. Every Shard-Bearer's shard will wrench free of their body upon waking, falling from their physical form as if to flee this sensation of something waiting, patient, for the right moment to pounce.

Echoing in the back of their mind, a wordless, shapeless promise lingers: Forward, or back. Back, or forward. Dart and weave, flit and flutter, scamper and scurry. We are here, now. In the back of every mind, what was in the process of coming before is — it is here, now. Looming right above, waiting for the outcome, watching for which way the last lives at the end of existence will flee.

Upon awakening from the mass dream-become-nightmare, Shard-bearers will slowly become aware of the exacerbation of previous events that have been persisting since October. These events are no longer subtle, and will impact everyone regardless of faction allegiance, with purposefully targeted strikes:

— Darkness has spread within Springstar. Wherever there is shadow cast by person, object or building, it has deepened, darkened, and grown in size. Walking through any shadowed area or touching a darkened shadow will fill a Shard-bearer who enters that area with feelings of dread, of something lingering just out of sight, of danger prickling along their spine, and entice them to run and flee. If they are not quick enough, an unseen entity savages them — aiming directly for wherever their Shard is hidden and held. They are being hunted.

— Light has spread within Highstorm. Starlight and moonlight seem to sear what they touch, leaving patches of bleached-white scars upon person, object or building. Being touched by the light or coming into contact with a white-scarred entity will fill a Shard-bearer with feelings of malaise, like they should simply lay down and accept what comes next. Suffocating hands waiting to pin them down. Even in the safety of the shadows, the scourging glow of any light reaches for them and rakes across their bodies, seeking the place where their Shard is hidden or held. Ravaging them with hot-and-cold burns. They are being sacrificed.

— Shard-bearers readily become lost in familiar places, as if their homes and bastions of safety and security have become strange ( estranged? ) from their minds. The route to that favorite haunt ( perhaps even their own place of business ) eludes them, and searching for it alone becomes an impossibility. It takes another Shard-bearer, at times, to aid them in breaking free of the mild befuddlement. You're just tired. It's just the strain getting to you.

— Citizens of both Springstar and Highstorm continue to speak about neighbors who have 'suddenly moved away', or the disappearance of a favored shop or cafe. Some mention favorite, useful landmarks vanishing, causing them to forget where they are coming from, or where they are going. When directly asked about this circumstance, they shrug and declare that it happens all the time these days. In fact, there's nothing to really be done about it. And if pressed, the citizenry's eyes go glassy and expressions become confused as they ask who, what, where, and why their Shard-Bearer has begun asking them such strange questions. None seem bothered by this strange occurrence, as if all is well and normal.

— Shard-bearers will begin to see familiar faces in crowds, standing on street corners, peering through their private windows, waving them down at their familiar haunts. People from their own worlds, loved and hated alike rush for them — adoring and hostile alike. Family members and friends who seem to attempt to meet their eyes before the crowd swallows them up; loved ones who should be captured in Shards try to flag them down, calling their names and asking them where have you been? what's going on?; enemies and abusers seem to advance upon them, pushing their way forth hungrily. And then they are gone, but not before leaving behind the impression, the strange sensation that, they are real. Really there. If only for a moment.

OOC & (IMMEDIATE) WORLD CHANGES

The full document for this event can be found here!

So, what does the world look like now that this has all gone down?

The world of Kenos ripples from the effects of our players!

Springstar is (mostly) physically unharmed, though the population has been reduced thanks to the number of murders and criminal mischief that has taken place during the attack. Damage seems constrained to things like broken doors and windows, looted property, and murdered civilians, though the severity is up to how many defend Springstar from the concentrated might of Ryad’s regulars, and a practical army of addicts rising from the depths below the city.

The leadership of Springstar is also shaken, though there are procedures in place for this – if one is particularly studious, they will recall that this is not the first Tribune that has been assassinated, though it is the first in a long while – and the Church and the Legionary have stepped in to maintain the peace while elections begin to be arranged.

Cyrus’s body is interred publically at the Church in Heliopolis for a week after his passing, before his body is immolated during a service, his soul returned to the Tree of Life. Those who attend will feel the light of Meridian fill them, and their Discord may be reduced by one level thanks to the warm hope that fills them, even as they despair at the loss of their leadership. Meridian calls to its most loyal, and asks them to do what they do best, show hope and unending resolve, when things look to be their most hopeless.

Highstorm is another story. The destruction wrought is more property, but the number of people who were within the manor is difficult to count until a week or two after the destruction has been evaluated, and cleanup has begun. The loss of life is not devastating compared to what was leveled upon Springstar, but perhaps the most distressing is that Yima is not present. Florence reassures those in Highstorm with her calming, but firm presence.

With few of Yima’s softer adorations to be found, Florence instead pushes the faithful to muster their will and begin the recovery efforts. After all, they have long proven to have faith in Yima’s guidance, and they should believe in it now when it is difficult. It is not the first time their fortitude has been tested, after all.

Her words fill those in Zenith with a sense of calm resolve, and they may feel their distress and discord from this destruction alleviating slightly. Highstorm’s government works smoothly without Yima, and those who are interested in history will be able to see Florence’s name throughout the annals, as one that would guide Yima’s faithful when the matron was in convalescence, or respite. What Zenith does best, after all, is build something new when faced with destruction. Consider this a primer for your new world, to help bring the faithful back from the brink of their despair.

The unharmonized have a choice, as they so often do. This time, however, the stakes appear even higher than before. The cities are not as welcoming as they once were, and those that have not chosen are beseeched by the civilians of both Highstorm and Springstar. ‘Do you not understand what they’ve taken from us, and what they will in days to come? You cannot let this continue, standing on the sidelines. Imagine the ways in which you could help us,’ they beg, and it feels as though your neutrality will become increasingly inconvenient, as time goes on.

What can we expect next?

As the month of Pelu ( aka March ) dawns, you will begin to feel it. Something tugs at you.

Those who have lived through more than one will feel that anticipatory anxiety rise, as the next oracle is coming. Are you ready to fight to claim it, even when it feels so dark, and even when everything feels different, and harder? Do you look to the stars, and dream of your home? Or do you gaze outward, into nothing, and dream of what you will make from the ashes?

Anticipate the oracle in the coming month of Pelu, and to learn more about those that will step into the voids left by Cyrus and Yima.

And as always!

Questions can be directed here!

Individuals less-inclined to busy themselves with either effort, or looking for a way to gain a foothold/explore the world can report here for exploration attempts. We recommend examining the Kenos Wiki's Locations for ideas, if you don't know where to start. Or! Ask someone in the Discord Server for a recommendation, we have long-time players eager to help.

Lastly, remember that Cyrus and Yima will be a little occupied this time around, but anyone who might ICly have reason to contact them regarding the brewing troubles can do so here!

CODING

Comments

[cutlery]

No.

[ He answers simply, but it’s with weight. There’s a sense of finality in it, but it’s not clear which question he’s answering until he elaborates. ]

I will know how you feel, naturally. It is all your experience and emotion that flavors you, after all. That is why I chose you, master. You were to my tastes from the moment we met.

[ Had he been working towards this moment ever since that meeting in Horos? It’s what he implies, and in a sense, that’s the case. It’s not that he had predicted anything that would come, but Sebastian always keeps his options open. It’s why he’s so very particular about keeping his good reputation. You never know when a good opportunity would appear… Such as watching Silco be murdered by Vander over a year ago.

He could mock him more and drive in the futility that had trapped Silco from the moment he had agreed to their Covenant. The deck had always been stacked against him. But that’s not what Sebastian wants to feed into. That would just make Silco angry, and as delightful as his master’s anger was… He wanted the final note to be one of despair. And that wasn’t one that was won by goading the man.

He removes his hands from Silco’s shoulders, but the shadows stay at his feet to catch him if he decides to move too much. Sebastian just comes around so that he’s standing before Silco now. He wanted to see the expressions too. ]

No, thank you for working so hard, Silco. I will enjoy all you are to offer.

[ He extends his marked hand towards Silco in a way that’s almost genteel, but he’s sure to read it as mocking. It is. Will he accept it, or will he fight it? It’s anguish either way. ]

Come.

[zauneyete]

[ Sebastian doesn't goad him, but he feels it. That noose tightening around his neck. Just like Vander's fingers around his neck, he feels it. He feels as though he cannot breathe, but that does not stop anything. Just like with so many things, Sebastian had slowly given him the paths to whittle away at his humanity, and breathing was automatic, but perhaps not so necessary anymore, was it?

He's greeted to it, the way his breaths choke out, little gasps he's trying to hide, but has no hope of concealing it from Sebastian. One eye is always wide — unblinking — but the other matches it now, understanding that perhaps this was how it had always been. He'd never had a chance, never had hope. Of course, he had never believed in it. In hope. In the fact that he would survive this. Silco had always seen that as an inevitability. At some point, he would die.

The only thing that mattered had always been that which he kept safe, and secure. Sebastian had never even seen it off her person, the only one who had was Set. He wanted her to live. He wanted his daughter to make it out. He didn't know if she would, now, staring at Sebastian's cruel smile, enjoying toying with him.

He's still, like an animal caught in the sights. His fight or flight response is suspended, decision paralysis extending to his limbs and his body. ]

Can you make me?

[ He asked, his tone a rough rasp of sandpaper and whiskey. Just as vile as the rest of him. ]

I will not simply walk into your waiting maw.

[ He would say he had always fought to live, but the truth was, he had been walking toward Sebastian's maw since the moment he arrived, hadn't he? ]

1/2

[cutlery]

[ Sebastian closes his eyes and laughs, but it’s a gentle gesture in both respects. His smile is warm and pleasant, and his laugh is more like someone has told him a nostalgic little anecdote. In comparison to Silco’s panic, he’s purely calm and collected. But that’s no surprise, is it? He’s the confident predator that’s cornered his panicked prey. ]

You know… I was hoping you would say something like that, my master.

this is the most ero thread silco will ever have and for what

[cutlery]

[ Silco probably doesn’t really perceive what happens to him. Not really.

Sebastian had offered his master power in many ways, including the physical, but there was a line that he carefully kept track of. He could make Silco more powerful. He could make him stronger, faster, now barely human at all. But he would never be more than Sebastian. He would never allow it. There were probably vampires that could hold a decent candle to the demon, but Sebastian had never even considered them as possibilities for Silco. He had always planned a gap that Silco would never be able to cross. He had a feeling it would be used in a moment like this.

It feels like in one moment, SIlco is standing and considering whether to fight or flee, and in the next, Sebastian has taken that choice away from him. Sebastian lunges and bears down on him as shadows pull him back, and he’s slammed back into the ground. It’s not gentle. He pins Silco down by his wrists and those dark, abyssal shadows are every bit as strong as Sebastian himself… When he wants them to be. They hold Silco down in other parts—his knees, his neck, anything that Silco might want to lash out with.

He's pinned. Trapped. And his oh so loyal demon looms over him with a grin. ]

Oh, I did not mention how I take my souls, did I…. Things slip my mind so easily when I am not asked.

[ It’s openly mocking now, because he’s surely deeply delighting in how he can feel Silco struggle in a futile effort. Silco may be strong now. But he’s not strong enough. ]

As interesting as it would be to pluck out your Shard and see how that goes, I have had enough of those lately. I will go with what I know.

[ He leans closer and hovers so close that Silco could lash out and tear out his throat, if only the demon would let him move. ]

It is a purely practical matter, do not worry. But there is a lovely irony in the romance of a kiss ending your life.

It's soooooooo wasted!! but I'm going to make it worse

[zauneyete]

Don't call me th —

[ It was sarcastic, mean, and bit out with all of the anger of a cornered animal, but the last was a rush of oomph as he was slammed to the ground. He tried, certainly, to fight. His body trying to rush upward and out, but the shadows pinned him down with another grunt of pain, and he could no more move than he could do anything else. He tried, oh certainly. How he tried.

The shadows were extensions of Sebastian, and thus he could probably feel it. The thudding of Silco's blood just under the surface, the straining of muscle, the way he fought and strained against inky bonds that held him down to the ground. At one point, he managed to lift his back, before he was forced back down by another that kept him even more solidly pinned down. He tried. Oh, how he tried. He didn't want this, he thinks.

But then again, Silco had a way of getting in over his head, and failing miserably. Hadn't that started him down this path in the first place? Oh, not here, not even Horos, but all those years ago, when he'd dreamed of revolution, and had tried to incite an uprising that ended in tragedy. That had been the day Silco first stepped down this path. There were other branches, certainly, but the first one that led to this.

He wondered if his life would flash before his eyes? Would it have for Jinx? He would never forget the feeling of her body in his arms, when he'd picked up her limp body, or the way his heart thudded in his chest? Had it been this loud? Had it hurt this much? This was more final, perhaps.

Sebastian interrupted his thoughts, not even giving him the grace of his musings as he explained what he would do to him.

There were few times that he felt revulsion. It was clear on his face, the way his lips peeled back, his teeth grimaced. This was one of them. ]

We don't do flights of fancy like romance where I'm from. It's an insult. You should choose something better. I just smoked a cigar.

[ He would prefer Sebastian merely rip his shard out, and take it from him. He was not really one for intimacies, of course, but more than that, it was the insult of it all.

Romance of it? Don't make him laugh. This was death, at least make it hurt. ]

[cutlery]

[ Silco struggles, and he does a valiant job, really. Imagine, Sebastian thinks, if he hadn’t convinced him to give up his humanity. This would be even more pathetic. He laughs, clearly enjoying the struggle, but his hands just tighten on Silco’s wrists further as the shadows match the effort and pull him down. They drift over skin like a weightless oil, and the odd sensation is skin-crawling in this context.

All the better for that predictable revulsion that adds just the little bit extra. ]

Ever the sharp tongue.

[ He thinks about teasing him further, asking if he really wants that to be his last words, but no… He’s ravenous. He may not be starving anymore, but he’s ravenous, and it’s all the worse because of his recent loss. Silco may not be a Ciel… But he will certainly fill his stomach well. ]

Farewell, Silco.

[ It’s all Sebastian says before he leans in and presses his lips to Silco’s. It’s greedy, almost passionate in appearance even if Silco bites (as Sebastian is sure he will), but Sebastian’s lashes lower as some part of him unfurls. It’s nothing tangible, even less than the shadows are, but something reaches into the very core of Silco and grabs him. It’s like a hand has wrapped around his heart just to feel the stuttering beat, but he’ll feel it in his Shard. Sebastian latches onto what lays inside that rock.

Oh, and it hurts as he digs in. It’s like thousands of knives pierce into him as Sebastian hooks onto that soul and simply pulls. It’s nothing short of agony as some part of him is being forcibly ripped away so that it can disappear into a demon’s gullet.

However.

It’s interrupted only a moment after it’s begun. ]

[kenosnpcs]

[ The rasp of stiff skirts heralds another. ]

You will halt there, Mister Michaelis.

[ Though the tone is different, the arched precision of an Edwardian governess instead of the maternal warmth of another, the commanding influence of Zenith reaches through the connection formed between power and Shard — pinning the demon's hunger in place. Before wrenching him aside, away from Silco.

A calmness will befall him, the soft refrain of disappointment and forgiveness following it.

The woman standing behind him is the picture of stern elegance, composed and firm; a woman with thick silver hair and dark eyes, irises speckled with starlight and rimmed with Zenith's deep, dark might. Older, but timeless in quality, she drags him aside like a scruffed animal and steps between he and his prize. ]

My lady had recently informed me of a higher purpose assigned to Mister Silco.

[ Her mouth curls, confident while standing against a demon. ]

Regrettably, your contract has been nullified. Point of clerical error, dear.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco was used to fear. He craved it. Reveled in it. Fear was power, and power was something he even now craved. It was the only way forward, the only way out of this. He knew, in this moment, that should something or some opportunity present itself, he would have taken it whole cloth. His mind centered on a cadence that repeated in his mind now, as Sebastian leaned forward, and still — still he fought against it.

'I can't leave Jinx', it circled in his head, because that's what this is. So swept into the moment of destruction, that Silco's focus shifted, only briefly, before — in the end, of course, his thoughts circled the drain like his life was, leaving only what was most to him in these last moments. He wondered if he would see her, as his soul was stripped away, or if there would just be — nothing.

Fear forced his heart to jackhammer in his chest, but still, Still he fought. Even at the edges of his mind, even as he could feel it curling against him, promising him quiet and silence if he only let go, he still fought. He could not move, but still he fought, and Sebastian knew that if he had not the foresight to hold him down, the man would have been thrashing, all limbs and violent energy, and as Sebastian pressed his lips to him, he breathes out a hiss, and a bite, because he does, predictably, bit down, fangs and misaligned blunt teeth snapping with a dogged need to live in that last moment —

He felt it. That tug. Even through the bite and the violence. Like something deep in him, like a well, was being tugged out of him.

He'd thought a soul was meaningless. Nothing.

His most of all, but —

He could feel it. Slick and slimy though it was, corrupted and withered, it was being ripped from him, and he could only feel terror, sweet, sweet terror, and he had no knife to pull, and no arm to slice. He'd thought he'd felt terror once before, but — Vander had nothing on this. He'd not feared like this, and if this was the end...

He hoped Set would take her with him — or that Yima would do him the decency of caring for the only thing that he'd ever dared to care for — but he didn't close his eyes, neither of them. Black with discord, he stared at Sebastian, even as his lashes lower, and he'll at least make it —

The tugging is gone, everything is gone, but Silco doesn't dare move, not until he hears a strange voice, and words that aren't familiar.

Yima had not even done him the decency of appearing herself, had she? He stared up at her, observing with matching pitch black eyes, mismatched irises, and he reached up tentatively to rub at his chest, at his shard.

He couldn't even speak, his heart still going, he could only stare, in part, because someone, or something had come to his rescue?

Set's words echo in his mind, that Yima would let him die, but here — was evidence to the contrary. ]

[cutlery]

[ As soon as Sebastian hears the skirts, Silco will be able to feel it as his soul is almost yanked, like he’s trying to force it more quickly from some kind of mooring. He’s an animal suddenly caught mid-meal, so he essentially tries to take it and swallow it down. Even if he can’t luxuriate in the experience of Silco’s fear, even if it’s akin to just swallowing his food without chewing it, he will not be denied again.

Or, so he’d hoped.

Zenith flows into him and stops him before he can take that final bite and pull Silco into the abyss. Calm flows into him, but he absolutely rages against it as he pulls his bloody mouth away from Silco’s. Calm is the last thing he wants to feel at the moment, and he shudders from the force of it trying to bear down on him. His lips pull back into an animalistic snarl as he faces this woman and immediately sees her for what she is. There are some things that can’t be hidden from someone that can see the soul itself.

However, it does him no good now. He’s caught in Zenith like it’s a steel trap, and though his claws come out and he digs into Silco’s hands like it might keep him there (or perhaps spite), she’s able to pull him aside. She does it like it’s easy, and that sparks just as much wild rage as the fact that she’s here to pull him off in the first place. ]

How convenient— [ He spits it out hoarsely and viciously, but stands. There’s no question that he’s going to tear her in half. Or certainly try to. ] My contract is not yours or hers to meddle with.

[kenosnpcs]

Your contract is with Silco.

[ And with that, the woman peering through the body of Florence Deshayes gestures to the man upon the ground.

She has always known of Sebastian's ability to observe the soul, and in this moment, it is what she counts on — to gently make her point. Florence's mouth does not smile so gently, nor do her eyes crease in the same way that a mother's would; she is a woman of different make and model, but she gives herself to the cause in all ways. In all forms, as all women who have ascended her position have ( she has, of course, served the longest; the most ambitious and possessive of the title ). ]

Strictly speaking, it is no longer valid. [ She repeats. ] Please examine him again. Properly this time, Mister Michaelis. Zenith is his place, he has embraced it in full.

[ See his soul, she insists with her smile. ]

A clerical error, as my lady insisted it would be.

[cutlery]

[ Sebastian pauses as if considering what action to take, but he does as he’s told. His frightening glare turns to Silco instead, and though it’s no different than any other time Silco has seen Sebastian’s eyes alight with that curious glow, his stare has never been so harsh. It’s boring down into him so much more clearly, and Silco will see it first as his already thin pupils narrow further.

Again. Again, he’d be on the precipice of taking his due, and it’s been snatched out of his jaws. Sebastian’s posture stiffens, and though soft, there’s and audibly sound that’s similar to a crack as his clawed hands tighten into fists.

He could take it anyways. A contract was only a formality from a demon that liked to fashion himself as one with principles. The whole point is that it was sweeter to give them enough rope to hang themselves, and only then would Sebastian tear into them for their meal when it was most savory. He has the thought, naturally. But there’s an obstacle that apparently can simply stop him by a whim.

The rational thing to do would be to retreat and accept the lost, but his pride would never accept that. He’s burning with anger and hatred, and rational or not, Yima has taken from him in this moment. So, he unfurls before all the Zenith he has ebbs away and takes his power with it.

Sebastian doesn’t lunge at Florence as a man. The shadows all around burst, and they’re filled with teeth and eyes that are normally kept at bay. The eyes swivel between Florence and Silco in even parts, but the teeth gnash hungrily in an instant as a clawed hand as big as Sebastian himself reaches out to try and crush her. He’ll eat her alive, tear her apart, even knowing that it’s unlikely to do anything to Yima herself. He only has surprise to count on to try and do it, but even that’s not enough, certainly. ]

[kenosnpcs]

All will be well, Silco. You have earned your place, and nevermore will you have to doubt in it. In us.

[ The voice that echoes from Florence's throat is her own, but carries with it the familiar refrain of a woman who had met him in the belly of her home, who had asked him for monsters and given him no sympathy or sweetness. Because that was not what he wanted, and now he was anointed in the same way that Amos Burton was. Invited to finally join her in the solidarity of their future: to be more than he was, to belong to true power — just like he'd always wanted.

The woman turns her head to the onslaught of furious demon coming at her, and where Florence-alone might revel at the threat, might pit herself against a demon with a healthy respect and plenty of daring-do, she is not alone. She never will be, such is her own faith. Sebastian Michaelis's faith has waned, called away by the clever words of another and his own pride, and it's clear that even while channeled through Florence, Yima is softly upset. Disappointed, and regretful that it came to this. But, there is the sense within their brief, dark connection that the moment that Silco had resolved to ascend to the heights, she was never going to let anyone take him from her.

Not again. Not after so long, not being so close. ]

[⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀], [ and she speaks his True Name, holding a hand up as shadows and eyes and teeth come for her. In retaliation, darkness and starlight surge in response. And in the entwined connection, she leverages magic against a creature vulnerable to it, a geas that takes the form of a dark ribbon around his throat. His shadows split the woman's defenses, piercing a hand, a thigh and briefly,

her flesh ripples. She becomes emaciated and skeletal, hair limp and lank and eyes empty sockets filled with coldfire and acid. Then, it all returns as she presses on in service to her Lady. ]

You will never communicate information about the woman you know as "Lady Yima", ever again.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco was no fool. For all his misteps, and for all of the places where his knowledge gaped, and showed that he had miscalculated, there was one thing he was good at. It was observation, and drawing conclusions from hat he saw, and heard. It's how he had survived for so long, it is how he had learned to do things far beyond his station, and how he even now continued to make sense of a world that was far beyond what he would or could have been able to do.

He heard her words, and he saw her eyes, and he remembered a hand trying to reach out to him in kindness, only to slap it away, to tell her there was no allowance for that. He had shirked a touch, but promised her in kind that if she allowed him, he would make her monsters, and he would help her burn it all down. She had promised him family, and Jinx had just as surely pulled herself from the roots, only to find herself back there time and time again. He had never trusted Yima, because how could he, when the only thing he ever wanted kept slipping through his fingers?

But in this moment, he actually looked at her — this strange, other woman, but he could drink in the details, the cadence of her speech, the way she said it — and he knew this was different. How much so, he would realize, only once he saw the wake of destruction, of the manor, and hear the wailing sobs of the faithful. His lips twitched, and free of any shadows holding him down, he's quick to stand, quicker to brush the dust and filth off his clothing. He breathed in, and breathed out. He does not flinch when Sebastian turned into a festering mass of eyes and teeth, but he does when the shadows are stopped by a name that screeches against something in him. Like nails on a chalkboard, like something that makes his head throb because it is not something for him to hear, or understand.

He stood, still, behind this odd frame, this form that was not the voice that spoke through it. His hands trembled, but he remained still, hunched slightly, and waiting, silently.

He had tried, after all, to beg Sebastian to still his hunger to the end, he justified. Sebastian had tried to take him from it — from this, and more importantly: from that too-precious shard he so carefully protected.

He remained silent, but he watched with two blackened eyes. Normally, he would have goaded the demon, but he'd only just felt how powerless he was against him. He didn't dare speak, and break the spell that was unfurling before him. ]

[cutlery]

[ Sharp shadows and sharper, monstrous teeth pierce into whatever they can, but right away, the ripple is odd against his senses before it even happens. He can feel the wrongness of it and the waning, because it’s simply not satisfying the way that tearing into someone should be. But before Florence flickers, she speaks his name, his true one, and it’s a strike. It’s no surprise that she knows it, but using it is something different. It makes him vulnerable in a way that he fiercely protects, but she already knows it.

It would be near impossible to find a neck in the sea of darkness, but within those entwined darknesses, it’s not as hard. They can both navigate it as easily as anything, but before he can try and claw out at the presence in that magic, that ribbon of a collar snaps into place. Like the snapback of a rubber band, the shadows disappear in an instant. As if he’d been somewhere in them, Sebastian spills back onto the ground in his human shape, and he claws at his neck like he might be able to slip a finger underneath and rip it off.

He thinks of spitting something out purely out of vicious, infuriated spite, since he’s sure Silco doesn’t know. What would he feel if—

But it’s no sooner than him having the thought that the ribbon tightens. It’s a force that would be crushing for a human, but for something that doesn’t need to breathe in the first place, it just prevents him from getting out the words. He chokes on it, but he grits his teeth with wide eyes as he feels the magic of it dig in deeper. It’s a hot iron to the very core of him that makes him feel that pain in a way that’s much more acute than the form he takes on. The message is clear. It’s not a request or even an order—he cannot speak of it because the magic prevents him from doing so.

He'd Unharmonized in that moment to fight back against her, and what he wants to do isn’t something that comes forth anymore. Zenith has left his Shard completely like he’d purged it out himself, but still, he stares up at Florence (at Yima) with a look of pure, unbridled hatred. It’s precisely the same sort that had led Silco into his clutches, fittingly. So, they both must recognize it. Sebastian won’t rest until he’s killed her. No, more than that, he won’t until she’d paid for this by his measure alone.

But with the mark of the geas so tight around his throat, he can’t say a word to it. ]

[kenosnpcs]

[ Yes, the day that Silco had slapped aside her kindness in favor of a business agreement had been a sobering one, but who was she if not patient? Now, he will see. With a measure of pride and open-armed acceptance, the woman within Florence's eyes turns fond eyes upon him, accepting ones. ]

See? There is no reason to burn our future anymore, my child.

[ No reason to want that anymore, as Zenith fills him and adds to him, coaxes him to full acceptance of that pure, simple fact. Certainly, he will fight and bite, but why at the cost he would have to pay now?

Above all things, he has proven himself and is rewarded for it. He will survive to the new world, because she would never allow him not to. Silco ought to recognize that parental fervor, because it is the striking, powerful thing that he embodies as well. Nothing will compromise what she will regain and those who will accept. Nothing.

Especially not someone who is already flagging in faith. Sebastian Michaelis is a testament to Zenith, and she can feel him slipping away — of course she will mourn it, of course she sees in him that he will not return so long as she survives. They are at an impasse, but perhaps with time he will come to see reason once more. ]

I know you will not stop, Mister Michaelis.

[ Is it a little insulting for her to slip back into using that name? Maybe. She doesn't seem to see it that way. His True Name is useful, but not how to address him! Starlit darkness pours forth from her skirts, sweeping over his limbs in the same way he had just held bodies against their own will. Softly, the cool shadows cup his chest — and pry free the glossy Shard upon it.

Florence holds it up, manifesting it between her fingers. ]

You have seen how a Shard-Bearer dies, and my lady knew you were unlike most. Forgiveness and acceptance are not within your nature. She had decreed that she owed you, though. Without your assistance, this child [ Silco ] would never have come home. It is this reason alone — your commendable service in Zenith's name — that you will be spared, but this once.

[ Florence holds her arm up, elbow crooked. A demand from her and request from the woman gazing through her. She pockets Sebastian's Shard, preparing to leave his body there to fade out with time and distance. ]

Silco, let us go.

[zauneyete]

[ There are mirrors here.

Mirrors everywhere, and there is something in Sebastian that he recognizes — that fervor — is something so truly similar to what he already feels every day that he survives this world without... well. He recognizes it, though he does not have the self-awareness to ever call it his own misstep. He recognizes it because it is the fuel that fires him, even while he hates and fights, and struggles against his own mortality.

There is something in this strange woman too, this frame he does not recognize, but he remembered Yima's words over a year ago. That there was nothing more important than reuniting family. He knew that look in her eyes too, that deep well that was so similar to how he felt about one person, and one person alone. Silco, predictably, is an intelligent man, even as his heart still beats at a panicked, frantic rate in his chest. Even as his shard fills fully with a familiar chill that is not as much cold as it is comforting. Silco had often found the cold desolation comforting, after all. Even as his eyes dart, and he considers things carefully in his mind, he puts something together, perhaps. What had saved him.

It may have been for him, Quetzalcoatl's death, but nobody could deny that it had been large, something that would have consequences for both Meridian and Zenith, and something that would continue to rippe outward.

Perhaps, it was not as Set said. Perhaps he had been chosen, for once, someone had chosen him.

He does not take her elbow, for even understanding this moment, her gesture implies something expected, but Silco... had never been one for that. He focused on Sebastian's shard in her pocket, and though he moved closer, shaking off a slight limp from his fight with Quetz, and then with Sebastian, he couldn't help but wonder if the Demon would be hunting him down again, and again, and again, until he had his fill?

And he has no idea that soon enough, it's going to be the furthest thing from his mind, as he stepped next to Florence, who he did not take the arm of. ]

Hm.

[ A pause, and then, with a clearer throat and a clearer mind: ] I suppose there's no point to remain here, now is there?

[ He slipped his hand into his pocket, to deposit the last of the shattered shard in there, to keep for later.

It was perhaps irreverent, but Silco was still shaken, unwilling to offer even thanks, as it was not in his nature. But perhaps, that would be expected, wouldn't it? Yima knew him better than most, after all. ]