THE ADVOCATE ORACLE - A RIP VAN WINKLE IN TIME

[beleos]

Sweet dreams are made of Bliss

As the twilight falls, and bearers begin to tuck in for their evenings on the night of the 15th of March (OOC time) and whether they tuck themselves into bed fully, or simply drift away in the middle of their dinner, work, indulgences, or what have you; bearers will fall into a deep, deep sleep. Perhaps you slump in your chair, or you wrap your arms around a teddy bear, or partner, or cup a precious shard in your sleep, it doesn’t matter, because as you drift away, into a sleep that seems to tug you under like the undertow itself, a question will echo in bearer’s minds: “If given the choice, would you show compassion in the face of adversity?”

It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.

The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.

Click your Heels together, Dorothy!

As you awake for the first time, it’s alien, the world that meets you. New smells fill your nostrils, new sights, the gravity is perhaps different than you’ve gotten used to on Kenos, even those slight shifts enough to make the world feel wholly different. You remember the advocate’s words, and it wants you to feel what it feels. Understanding. Compassion, and perhaps there is a sense that doing so would hurt yourself in turn, if you understood too much. That is the advocate’s way, after all, isn’t it?

You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.

The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?

After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.

Around the world in 60 seconds 12 hours

When you find yourself at the end, when you close your eyes – only a blink, but it hangs, as if the momentary motion is enough to suspend you into a suspended space before. You can see the two options stretched out before you – metaphysically – the impression of it. A long, long shadow cast over one. As if there is a presence hovering over and above, like waiting jaws, ready to strike. In the other, there remains…nothing. It is not pleasant, it is not comforting, it simply… is. A sense that there is now a lack of anything, almost like it had never existed before.

Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?

And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?

Catch [???] Winks

The last world’s fate decided, bearers float in an endless sea of stars. You can see them all, spread before you. Intermittently, they wink out, swallowed into the darkness, consumed as the shadows, that inky-black nothingness grows ever-larger. It looks upon you, bearers. It is nothing, but you have its attention, and your blood runs cold, your limbs frozen. You cannot move, you cannot speak, you cannot breathe. You feel it, the power of being drawn into it, like it wants to consume you. Like it knows you.

T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜

You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.

CODING

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sebastian michaelis (meridian stargazer)

[cutlery]

𝓲. 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓪

[ Sebastian recognizes the ship immediately, so that means he’s also quick to set out on a mission of finding that Dreamer’s Shard. After everything that had happened to him with Ciel’s Shard, he’s thoroughly untrusting of any suspicious Shards, as would be expected. So though it definitely draws gasps and a little fear as he weaves his way through the crowds of people, he’s following the direction of that pull.

And looking, of course. That’s the source of the gasps. His eyes are bright red and alight as if backlit, and his pupil has narrowed into a slit. Though he’s otherwise quite himself, his eyes are nothing short of demonic. And if he casts a glance your way, will he see something interesting?

But regardless, when he does see a Shard-Bearer, he frowns a little. ]

…Hm. [ He evaluates them, and at the very least… He might be able to use his unusual position of being a bit unknown for his alliance at the moment. ] I do not suppose you felt that odd little tug, did you?

𝓲𝓲. 𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼, 𝔀𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓼𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓵𝔂

[ For some reason, not everyone is a fan of Sebastian. Or vice versa, of course, but Sebastian’s distaste does tend to be a quieter affair… Or in this case, a more passive-aggressive one. In a way, he’s the instigator here.

Which is to say, once he locks eyes with someone who isn’t exactly happy to see him, he puts on his perfect, polite smile. ]

Why, hello there. It has been some time, has it not? Do excuse my manners for being so poor as to not come to call, but I have been terribly busy as of late… Your countenance seems so sour that I must offer my sincerest apologies for my rudeness.

[ He said, insincerely… So, how long will it take before they get chaperdroned? Stay tuned and find out! ]

𝓲𝓲𝓲. 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓰𝓻𝓸𝓿𝓮

[ As soon as he’d found the Boy and seen what he wore, Sebastian had been delighted at his good luck. What an easy find, comparatively. It’d only taken a short conversation, but it had been an interesting one. He’d politely turned the child down and said he couldn’t stay, but he’d trade quite a bit for that necklace of his… And Sebastian interest had been thoroughly piqued that he’d wanted wishes for it.

So. He could hardly resist.

He’d expected easy, childish things, but the first of them… Was not quite what he expected. It is indeed childish, but. He very much feels like a bit of a fool walking around with a butterfly net and a jar. Not embarrassed, exactly, since he’s not capable of that in the first place, but… It’s not what he’d been hoping for, as far as wishes go. ]

Wait. Hold still—

[ All of the sudden, you hear Sebastian’s voice, and it’s deathly serious. Of course he takes even this duty completely, one hundred percent seriously. ]

It is on your back, so if you just wait a moment…

[ But what might have been helpful was saying what had just landed on their back. With his tone, you’d think it was something dangerous and deadly rather than, you know. A butterfly. ]

𝓲𝓿. 𝓶𝓮𝓷𝔃𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓷𝔃𝓪𝓷

[ At least Menzoberranzan was practically homey, at least for a demon from Hell. The cutthroat, vicious atmosphere is something that Sebastian feels almost immediately, and it would almost be nostalgic if he didn’t find it annoying more than anything… But at the very least, it’s a fun distraction. He’d heard whispers of the tension between House Hlarahel and House Kilghym, and after learning a bit about them…

He's found himself in House Kilghym, naturally. From his estimates, they seem to be the ones better equipped to come out on top. He just privately hopes that the tension will burst when he has a chance to witness at least a little of it.

For now, though.

He’s ended up in one of the minor courts of the house after ingratiating himself just enough. There are already open comments about how it’s a disappointment that he’s male, but it’s joined with not-so-subtle comments that he has a prettier face for a demon than expected. Some of the drow women say it with doubt (but who would be so bold as to lie about that, and why?) and others with more joking interest. So, it’s a bit of a test of just how obedient this demon with a pretty face is.

It's how their attention has turned to you. How much venom is in their voice depends on your gender, but they encourage you all the same. Go on, one of the younger women encourages with a smile that’s hard to read, Tell him to do anything. He’s at least a well-mannered pet.

And for his part, Sebastian looks to you expectantly, but his expression is just as hard to read, honestly. Whether he’s pleased or displeased with this turn of events… probably depends on just who you are. ]

𝓿. 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓭

[ The usual! If we plotted something else or you have another idea, hit me up with something new! ]

v in the key of i

[semicharmed]

[ This must be what the therapy he's never had would've felt like.

That's what Matt finds himself thinking (if thinking is really the word) in his conversation (if you can call it a conversation) with the Advocate. The caring, detailed questions. He tries to ask, What about you? Who did you used to be? The Advocate keeps asking about the library in Matt's high school, about taking the train into San Francisco, and the answers slip from his lips like notes coaxed from a flute. Sneaking out, concerts, setting fires. Katy-Rose checking on him after a nightmare instead of his parents.

Matt tries once more to strike out, to focus his mind and the breath in his body on magical insight: Who were you? He finds a consciousness too big to be understood so easily, or at least not made of anything that will condescend to be questioned in this way.

He wakes up to the scent of salt air. The gentle lapping of waves.

***

The luxury cruise liner is Sebastian's dream-world, as it turns out when Matt runs into him. Figures. This is exactly the kind of aesthetic refinement Matt associates with him, at least on the material plane.

For a few hours, Matt follows the little tug pulling him towards the center of--something about this place--but what he's really looking for is the Advocate. For an "effigy," something he can touch. Some more interrogable sign of its fingerprints. When he recalls the Advocate's infinite care, accepting as an undertow, it makes him think of lyrics from a song he used to replay and replay. His breakup anthem with Vincent.

'Cause it's not enough that you're in love with me
It makes things a bit worse actually

He's humming when he reencounters Sebastian, outside one of the various first-class lounges. ]

Ah--hi again. [ He smiles. ] I don't think I've found much of note, unfortunately. Unless not learning shuffleboard counts as notable. [ It occurs to him that there are other things he's been meaning to talk about with Sebastian. Maybe now's not the time, but ... maybe being in a liminal space like this one would weaken the collar's hold? ] How are you doing?

[cutlery]

[ The greeting gets Sebastian to pause in his search, and at the very least because it's someone he's on good terms with, he does return the greeting with a little nod. The question gets him to frown, though. ]

Concerned, if I am honest. From my understanding there is a Shard of another... me, I suppose it would be. Yet, considering my luck as of late with Shards, I am rather deeply suspicious of it.

[ To put it mildly. Granted, he isn't sure what he'll do when he does find it, but the worry is genuine all the same. Is it better to keep it or crush it, he has to wonder... But also considering past experience, he's more inclined to the latter.

He sighs gently and reaches into his suit jacket's inner pocket to flip open the silver pocketwatch. He's been resetting the time to the 12 o'clock position with each new world, so he can at least see that he still has time to find it. He flips it closed again and tucks it back into place as he looks at Matt again. The concern doesn't abate in his mind, but he at least forces it from his face. ]

...Well. If that does not make it obvious, this ship is a fragment of my world. [ A pause, and then he elaborates after a note of a half-laugh. ] Though I suppose it is more accurate to call it a fragment of the human world that I would visit. All the better, as Hell would not exactly be hospitable, to say the least.

[semicharmed]

[ Matt frowns in sympathy over Sebastian's concerns. The whole matter of Shards is exceptionally fraught for him, isn't it? Or at least it's fraught in a very specific way. So he opts not to share his personal position, which is this is a dream so it's probably not even a real Shard. It probably wouldn't be helpful, emotionally speaking.

Despite how deeply he's considering Sebastian's difficulties--or maybe because of it--his last remark prompts a startled laugh. ]

Gotta admit, I'd be curious to see that, [ Matt says. ] Even if it was just in the moments before I turned to ash or something ripped my intestines out. But uh, on the plus side, they do have string quartets here.

[ He pauses. ]

If you'd feel better keeping on with the search, then I totally get that. But would you be interested in a break? It's been a little while since we really talked.

[ Sebastian would be forgiven for thinking this was an invitation to a tryst. But Matt's emotions, at least, lack obvious lust. He's apprehensive, concerned, in a way that has nothing to do with their current oracular predicament. ]

[cutlery]

[ It's not the first time that someone has expressed curiosity about Hell (and honestly, it's a curiosity he finds rather reasonable with all the mystery that surrounds it), but Matt's... realism about its nature prompts another laugh. It's just a little bit startled that he would still want to see it even knowing that it's an brutal place to mortals, but Matt is a bit of an odd one, isn't he? Though perhaps that's putting it lightly in this case. ]

Both are equally possible, as it all depends on what sort of creature you stumbled upon in the wastes first, really. Though I would at least hope that if that were what was chosen, it would at least be my home proper over the bore of the outside.

[ He mulls over the offer for a moment, and it's not quite hesitation so much as calculation that gives him pause. It's a calculation of time, honestly. He knows this ship well thanks to all of the mess that will occur later (or so he assumes), so by that, he knows he can at least go the brute force method of scouring the ship from the outside if need be, though it's much more unpleasant. So with a nod he takes a step away from the door of the room he'd just explored to step closer to Matt. ]

...Perhaps that is not a bad idea. Ironic that these ships are made to be a relaxing luxury, but it seems that both of my times on the Campania are destined to be very much the opposite.

[ He half-turns to nod down the corridor. ]

There are the baths and the smoking lounges, but I do believe that the evening dance will begin soon as well.

[semicharmed]

[ Creatures in the wastes ... that's interesting. Implies a kind of Dantean geography: rivers of blood, bleak marshes.

It's easy enough to steer Matt away from his curiosity on that point, though. He brightens when Sebastian seems receptive to some off time from searching, his mind turning to both the subject of his inquiry and the best spot to actually talk about it. ]

I can't smoke indoors, [ he admits, wrinkling his nose. ] The baths are nice ... [ A crooked smile. ] And I haven't danced the way they do it here since my parents made us do cotillion.

[ Still, Matt's emotions incline wistfully towards the latter option. He likes dancing--of course he does. It's a socially acceptable way to meet and match someone's physical cadence, to create harmony with them. It's just that these days, he's usually had at least one drink first, and the dance in question doesn't have steps, per se. ]

But I bet the music'll be great.

[cutlery]

[ He nods with each option, but that Matt is at least passingly familiar makes Sebastian smile. There’s still tension in his mind because honestly, he’s just not someone that relaxes, uh, ever. Not completely. But this topic does at least soothe a fraction of it. ]

Then it sounds as if we should dance. I did not get a chance on my first voyage, as it would have been most improper…

[ He was just a servant, after all. He would only have been allowed on the floor in the role of a dance teacher, and while Ciel still certainly needed it, considering his poor aptitude for dance… He’d stayed at the sidelines as the dutiful butler. It wouldn’t be accurate to say that he missed it, since his feelings are more neutral than that, but he enjoys dancing. That’s especially true when it’s formal, since he can follow instructions perfectly, but improvisation is a weakness. ]

Forgive me a question if it is inane, but I am curious… Is dance something that a young gentleman or lady is still expected to learn in your time?

[ He starts to lead the way down the hall since they’ve seemingly decided, at least! ]

iv cracks my knuckles

[wolof]

Oh now, I do not think you should enjoy what wicked ideas I could come up with when it comes to my pet.

[ She says, with one of those tones that brokes no argument, and though the Drow certainly do not have a high opinion of most who are not Drow, Akua Sahelian has experience, and what are Praesi if not Drow in the sunlight. Her fingers drift upward, to brush against Sebastian's cheek, as if she were demonstrating her control.

Or rather "control" for no binding applied to the demon next to her. ]

After all, beneath this very pretty veneer is quite the catch. He's capable of nearly anything I would ask for. Why, if I ripped my dress, he would mend it before your very eyes, and you would question whether you saw it rip at all.

[ Her lips curled into a touch of a smile. ]

Is that not correct? Would you like to show them how... perfectly suited you are to such work? Or should we demonstrate some of your other talents for them?

[ Her tone was flirty, as it often was, but her smile was wicked. ]

[cutlery]

[ It had been agreeable to work with Akua for this little farce, since with the misandry at play and the culture of this city, Sebastian could hardly think of a better partner than her. However, once they’d actually gotten to this point… Well, he wasn’t wrong. But she seems to be enjoying this quite a lot.

Yet even so, whatever annoyance he feels is mild. He gives only a half-withering glance to her at the sort of possessive brush against the cheek, and there’s at least one Drow woman whose gaze gets a little sharper and more interested at even that insubordination. But dutifully, he bows his head lightly and avert his gaze under his long lashes. ]

I leave that to you discretion. You know full well that I am capable of many things. It only depends on what shade you may wish to see.

[ His words are polite, but there's just enough of a sharp edge to be used in the implication. He could repair a dress, certainly, and it would be as easy as she claims. But violence or absolute obedience aren't out of the question either.

...Though he would complain for the latter. Eventually. ]

[wolof]

You see, ladies?

[ She asked, her tone sharp, but teasing. It made it Far easier to find luxury and acceptance once she had tugged at the right strings, and made it clear that she was no hedge mage, but a diabolist of the highest order. And if Sebastian was brought along for fun, well, was that not better? She could use his keen perception, as well as his power, if anything went particularly wrong. While she didn't doubt her own capabilities... she was a planner, and one thing to plan for was contingencies.

One of the servants came in, drinks on a tray. His hands shook, and one of the drow noblewomen flicked a cool, almost imperceptible gaze toward him. His lips peeled back, knowing that his terror had been spotted. She arched a finger toward him. ]

My, that is quite the request. Though, I can say I would not allow for such poorly trained staff myself, so...

[ Her eyes flitted toward Sebastian, and then the boy. ] That would be far better than a mere repair, now wouldn't it?

[ It was not so much a request as a rhetorical question, and yet... ]

i

[baltimores]

Yeah. Can't figure out where the fuck it's coming from, though.

[ Amos has not been on a boat like this before. A luxury space shuttle that he technically stole, yes, once, but not something like this on the water. It's a novel enough experience to keep him occupied — like, there are fancy little sandwiches here? He doesn't care if he's not hungry; they're neat.

Though come to think of it, it's actually been a minute since he's seen Sebastian. Which seems a little... odd, considering the chaos that had been in Highstorm the day following his little mission, but, fuck it. It was chaotic enough to have missed a guy for a few days. Or a couple of weeks. Time had stopped being real for a bit there...

Nevermind that. Amos quirks an eyebrow at Sebastian's eyes, finishes off the last bite of his last tiny sandwich, and nods at him. ]

You got a better sense of direction here?

[ He'd looked kinda. Purposeful. ]

[cutlery]

[ I am happy to report that there are indeed fancy little sandwiches. Live your truth, Amos. Which he is, but. ]

[ Admittedly, Sebastian is somewhat more apprehensive to encounter Amos than other Zenites. He doesn’t know if Amos knows, after all. He doesn’t think Silco would have told him, but would Zenite leadership? Or would True Sight reveal it…? Since he’d never ascended further, he’d never quite learned its parameters himself, after all.

However, Amos may be dedicated to Zenith, but he’s hardly the flavor of zealot that Silco is. That is, murderous. It may be ironic to think of the assassin of the Tribune, but. ]

Well… Yes and no. For the pull, not particularly other than it’s the starboard side, I believe. But in general…

[ He looks around a bit, but he does laugh a little at the tea sandwiches. He gives it a small nod before he explains. ]

This is a glimmer of the world I am from. I took a voyage with my master, so I became well-acquainted with the ship... But as it is a fragment from my past, I deeply want to find the Shards here, rather obviously.

[baltimores]

[ Indeed, Amos does not know. Nobody has seen it pertinent to tell him, particularly because he hasn't asked. There's no reason for him to activate True Sight here because as far as he's concerned, Sebastian remains a loyal Zenite who had helped him out in ensuring Cyrus' death.

And so Amos continues to regard him as though nothing has changed, because to him, nothing has. ]

Yeah? Makes sense. [ He takes a little look around him as Sebastian does, appraising the ship. Like oh, yeah, he can see how this would be from Sebastian's world now. It's distinctly fancy and proper in a way that Amos himself never is; he should have guessed.

Back to Sebastian. ] You want some help with finding them?

[ Anything for a fellow Zenite — especially one who had just helped him!

:)

but non-threatening and sincere ]

[cutlery]

Oh—

[ His surprise is polite in the way that Sebastian always is. Someone else might feel some trepidation for asking for this help, because it could certainly come back to haunt him. He knew that. However, for now? He's much more inclined to accept it. He can deal with the consequences later, should they appear.

...Which is a bit of a question. Amos is a bit harder for him to predict than most. How much would he care, really? He supposes he's likely to find out. ]

I could not insist, but if you are offering, nor can I refuse. If it is no trouble... I would certainly appreciate the assistance, yes.

[baltimores]

[ Sometimes you're so straightforward you're unreadable. This might mean something to Amos if he was the conniving sort, but since he's too at peace with just about everything to be of value to a demon — any demon, really — he just continues to take everything Sebastian says in stride.

Not caring about being unreadable probably helps make him even more so. Godspeed to Sebastian, but for now Amos gestures for him to lead the way, amiable and slightly empty smile on his face. ]

Might as well, right? You got a better sense of the lay of the land, and it'd be for the best for Zenith to find 'em, I figure. Besides, I'm pretty good as backup.

[ He's sidestepping Sebastian's politeness with his own assertiveness, because it makes absolutely no sense for him to not help out his factionmate, so he's going to do it. :) ]

wildcard!

[zauneyete]

[ You know what's funny? How it's almost easier for Silco to coordinate with Sebastian when he isn't playing the whole respectful demon game. Yes, of course, he knows they must fight over the fates of worlds, and yes he is aware of the... perhaps misdirection he was subjected to. He still fears Sebastian, particularly now that he is not leashed, but at the same time, their interactions at Draumahol have been professional, if not outright pleasant.

It's why, after a touch of time in the Undercity, after the first few hours in which Silco mostly just did what a Silco would normally do — Go sit in his chair at the club, maybe drink, have a proper Zaunite cigar, and breath the putrid air, and touch the small scribbles on his desk with a twitch of his lips — before he decided there was something much more worthwhile of his time.

Because, well, Silco did still want revenge. Oh, he proclaimed, over and over, that the best revenge was simply existing and letting them rot, but... But...

Wasn't it better? To actually get to do something? ]

I'm curious what you're getting up to.

[ He sends via Communion, a rarity from Silco, but it's not like there are too many secrets that Silco has to hide. Or rather... the ones he would be hesitant about leaking in Communion, Sebastian already knows. ]

Ah, and whether you would want to do something more interesting.

[cutlery]

Oh? What a rarity.

[ The Communion is returned immediately and with the cool ease that Sebastian always has. This trial was… odd already, but this world hadn’t taken long to identify. Still, though. He’d like to confirm it. ]

This world is yours, yes?

[ And so there’s interest too that Silco would reach out here. ]

What did you have in mind?

[zauneyete]

[ A flare of annoyance at being called out for the rarity, but it's swallowed just as quickly.

Just because a guy never calls doesn't mean he wants to be called out for it. ]

It is.

[ There is no shame in that, at least. No pride, either, because Silco sees this as what he thinks it is — an attempt from the advocate to soften his heart and force him to look back, instead of forward — and so there's only acceptance. A tease, but the Advocate cannot recreate what would make Silco want to stay.

He'd looked. ]

I thought you might enjoy something a little more entertaining than watching Zaunites suffer by existing.

[ I mean, though, Sebastian is a devil. He might like that. ]

Want to go topside?

[cutlery]

[ There's interest that lingers in Communion because it truly is rare for Silco to reach out. He's not a whimsical man, so when he does, it's with purpose, and truthfully, Sebastian doesn't have an immediate guess why he would reach out now. Their contract is (forcibly) dissolved, after all. Though that's not to say that Sebastian wouldn't answer a call for help if it were suitably desperate...

But he gets his hint at the question. He laughs, gently amused, because considering their conversations, he has a guess what this could be about. ]

Why, I could hardly refuse a tour from the owner of one of these little worlds.

[ And he's intrigued and pleased both that Silco would ask. ]

I believe I can make it that way on my own. Is there a landmark I should be looking for?

[zauneyete]

[ Silco won't lie, he's a touch relieved that Sebastian's at least curious enough to play along. Mind, Silco may still do what he's planning, even if Sebastian refused, but...

It is more fun, if there was a touch more destructive weight behind it. He wanted them to fear, and understand fear.

Were they real? No. Would it make him feel better? Absolutely. ]

Close to the river there is an elevator attached to the bridge. That should be simple enough to find.

ii. (crawls back from traveling to tag in finally fkenlwg sorry)

[warmare]

[The answer to the question of how long it would take for the ship's drones to be deployed to bring a forcible stop to any violence between the temporary inhabitants of the Sense Amidst Madness, Wit Amidst Folly would soon be answered. Hayame has been disoriented by the technological advances of the "world", off-put by the crowds, but thankfully she had yet to encounter a view outside of the endless lengths of dark space that might cause cracks in a more medieval brain...

She encounters Zenith's demon instead. Thanks to the item she had trawled the markets of Kenos for in the wake of her "visit" to Kowloon, she knows in advance that a demon is near, the amulet has been tied to her wrist so long now that she conceptualizes it as part of her even in "dreams", just like she did her weaponry. Her hand is on her bow as she walks, growing paranoid and on edge, her knuckles pale with the strength of her grip. Only a few members of her faction had openly agreed to the idea of some Zenites needing to be put down and shattered the second a chance presented itself, the threat they presented for Meridian victory too great for so-called "mercy"...

But when had her own faction's condemnation ever stopped her from trying to do what she knew had to be right? Had to be her right? Whether it was in regards to Manon or Alenroux or shattering their enemies, it felt like every godsdamned time she had let herself be persuaded from going through with things... She had been vindicated in the worst of ways.

So she is prepared for Sebastian, this time. He does not sneak up on her in a sudden swell of shadows as she made her way back home on the road she had traveled in safety day after day. There is no bite of a needle, no sudden rush of weakness and sleep. Her eyes burn with a hatred that has only grown since their last encounter, nourished and fed by the resentment of each single day she lived with the hag's eye he had forcibly implanted in her skull. An eye that's sickly green color did not match the stormy gray of her natural orb- not that anyone could tell, with how she hid the eye beneath the same sort of eyepatch she had always worn, intent on trying to fool her allies and enemies both that the left was still missing, still just gone. Even putting aside the fear she lived with over who she might be feeding information to by just looking around at her allies, friends, or lover... the shame of that disfiguration was less than what would be incurred by the truth.

She sees "Sebastian Michaelis" just fine with one. Her fingers clench tighter on her bow, her muscles all tighten in preparation for battle, but there are citizens passing between them in the crowded halls, she does not have the clearest shot, and his accursed tongue is again dripping-]

Do you think yourself funny, demon?

[Hayame fires back an accusation before he even finishes speaking of her sour countenance. She wants to- She has to-]

Do you think threats of another "visit" from you will be enough to cow me?

[... But these people are not real, are they? They cannot be real, even if the Oracle has conjured them for some sick experiment on what they would choose. If they must be collateral damage-]

no worries! I’ve been traveling too lmao

[cutlery]

[ Normally, he would probably gloat more. He is partially pleased by the venom in her words and by the implicit fear (though she may never call it that) of his “visits”.

However. Things have changed, though she doesn’t know that.

It’s what draws out the dry sarcasm, since this is certainly what he’d been least looking forward to. Enough of the Meri might be extremely warranted in their distrust, but his new, deep loathing of Yima would at least mean their goals were aligned enough. Akua and Set had practically gleefully celebrated it (though part of that celebration was bullying him mercilessly). Hayame, on the other hand…

He sighs and shakes his head. His posture is relaxed compared to her tension, because with all his ability, he still doesn’t consider her much of a threat, honestly. It’s his arrogance, and even he knows it. ]

No, unfortunately not… You are woefully hard-headed. I took the pound of flesh I was owed, but we will eternally be at an impasse of how those scales were balanced in the first place, seemingly.

shakes travel why so fun but so disruptive

[warmare]

["Sebastian Michaelis" was a demon, a creature that by very definition (as far as she was aware) lacked empathy and the ability to love. And so, surely, where could a demon who would have only selfish reasons to do anything belong but on Zenith? How could Meridian welcome a being that corrupt, that irredeemably evil? The idea that something could change... is not a thought that exists in even a single part of Hayame's hearts.

Hearts that rage in the presence of the thing that had not only robbed her of an eye... but intentionally shamed and tortured her in the guise of charitably returning it.]

A monster that bears no scars is owed nothing.

[The words are spit so viciously that people walking around them side-eye the shard-bearers, some beginning to give a bit of a wide berth in case a more violent argument breaks out. They are here for fun, for enjoyment, and though some had more peculiar tastes... there were bars for that. Good, because all she wants or needs is an opening, she cannot just kill these false dreams of people if she must impress upon the Advocate Oracle that she can show compassion-

But the demon is exempt. Even knowing they do not agree on the tally, that he believed her teeth in his throat in the dryad's roots or her spear tip in his eye during the Iconoclast Oracle trial to have counted and she did not, refusing to be satisfied with injuries that were either erased from time or healed in an instant...]

Even if you had not laid a hand upon me, you would be marked for death.

[Her knuckles tighten on her bow. Her fingers are a second away from pulling an arrow from her quiver. Any second now there will be a gap in the passersby, enough room to clash without endangering them, so if she just, for one more minute-]

So what does a demon pray to, I wonder?

too many fun things to do alas

[cutlery]

[ Sebastian breathes out a little laugh of amusement, and though it’s timed for the first, it might as well be everything. How delightfully nostalgic. He would probably indulge with a little bit of a story if he thought she would understand it… But he imagined there was little chance she would know the tales of Crusaders or Inquisitors. Briefly, he wonders if she would enjoy or hate being compared to such people. ]

You at least have a natural flair for the dramatic. I must give you that.

[ She’s all tension and ready to fire off an arrow the moment she gets a chance, but he’s still relaxed. He gives a little smile to a passerby that’s nervously looking between them as if to assure them that it’s all fine, but he shrugs as he looks back her way. ]

I imagine the question is rhetorical, but the answer is “nothing”, of course. We do not need God. Or gods, I suppose it would be… Our existence is not so pitiful as to need them.

slams back into inbox ready to prioritize this

[warmare]

[What he says makes her lips thin and her eyes narrow (even if only one seems to, the other hidden by the eyepatch only this demon and a select few have ever seen beneath). A flair for the dramatic, as if this were some theater play or farce by the roadside for some coin.

She might even be offended, the idea that anything but a demon was pitiful, gods-needing things. After all, though she had never relied on the gods she knew in her own world, those that, if they existed, had turned their backs upon jinba… Had she not sworn herself to a war god here? Had she not given him worship and loyalty, all of her multitude of violences pressed into his hands even as those hands betrayed her? If it were anyone else, she would refute them loudly, as steadfastly as she did everything. But here, in front of this thing, just this… she cannot. Not without fear that something foul and rotten might be thrown into her face, and if she cannot turn away and pretend not to see it…

Hayame’s mouth stays shut in the face of the insults. Her hackles stay up. Her grip stays tight upon the bow. A hoof scrapes the metal flooring.

There’s just one last little group before an opening—-]

Have you been enjoying whatever your accursed “gift” has brought you?

[Her voice snaps out a final time. Though she was not positive who could be the one benefiting from whatever magic those she had asked had sensed in the Hag’s Eye, she cannot imagine it not being Sebastian or one of his own ilk- someone who he might at least have close enough to hear from or ask.

But for months there has been only darkness. Not to bathe, not to make love, not to sleep, not to train… She has not taken the eyepatch off the left side of her face but for the occasional wash of the accessory itself… and even then, she switched for a spare.

She would ask “how stupid did you think I was?”, but. She already assumes she knows that answer.]