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

Comments

[tresemme]

[ tony’s eyes are red and itchy, and his nose feels like he’s actually drowning underwater. he holds the back of his hand to his nostrils in an attempt to stop whatever is in there from coming out, and while it kind of works, this whole thing decidedly sucks. ]

I’be only eber been on Nazca.

[ just because amos is also a space guy, however, doesn’t mean he’s familiar with every single planet. even if tony calls it by its name in the S.D. system—silvester 7—there’s no guarantee amos would understand.

he sniffs, clearing his nose. ]

The only plants that grew there were the ones Mama and Papa and the others put down, so there weren’t that many.

[baltimores]

[ Yeah, he doesn't know what Nazca was (or if Tony is even pronouncing it correctly), or where the S.D. system was. The context clues are enough for him, though. ]

No? I mean, I'm familiar with not having a lot of plants around, but always figured they were nice. I used to know a plant guy once. A botanist. He helped introduce me to some good air purifiers.

[ And he figures that Tony is going to follow his lead there and understand him perfectly, even if they're two different kinds of space guys. Plants are good, even if they're kinda attacking Tony right now.

Amos pauses, looking around for the nearest building that looks fancy enough to have air conditioning in it. And maybe food. ]

C'mon, let's go inside — [ as he points out the building he's identified. No, he doesn't know what's in it, but there are people going in and out so he figures it's fine — ] where maybe the pollen can't get in. You can tell me about the plants you weren't allergic to if you want.

[ And maybe Mama and Papa, since there's a conspicuous absence of Grandpa there, but he's not going to immediately bring that up. First things first: ensure Tony can continue to breathe normally. ]

[tresemme]

[ tony does understand the ecological importance of plants, and it was a big day on nazca when they were able to get anything to grow, but this is the first time tony has been blatantly attacked by pollen. there’s just something about this place—“tokyo,” they said—that’s really not sitting well with his space immunity. ]

Yeah, okay.

[ he moves his legs as if he’s about to fly there, but one remembered moment later and he aborts that mission in favor of trudging over with his legs to the building amos has pointed out.

the building in question is several floors high and seems to contain a variety of options, food included, but tony is just relieved by the purified air when they step inside. he still feels a little itchy, but it’s progress. how is no one else dying? ]

Nazca—[ snifffff ]—didn’t have any big trees like that. Not that I saw, anyway.

[baltimores]

[ A quirked eyebrow before Tony remembers that walking is a perfectly acceptable mode of transportation, and Amos is right alongside him.

And, shit, he can't say he doesn't enjoy the purified air either. Something about it does breathe familiar to him. Hell, he takes an extra deep inhalation as the smell of food wafts towards him — fuck, it smells good — and maybe, almost subconsciously, starts to direct Tony towards what is perhaps a food court. ]

No? [ He's still curious enough about the plants Tony is familiar with, though. ] Never had the chance to climb up anything? Just for fun? We had some trees like that in Baltimore. Got all pink when it was springtime.

[ Not that he'd paid too much attention to them as a kid, but in hindsight, maybe they were nice after all. ]

What was Nazca like? You have, I dunno... grass? Shrubs? [ A beat, just throwing darts blindly at this point. ] Cacti?

[tresemme]

Why would you climb something for fun?

[ almost incredulous.

as a child, they were told not to fly around the nursery, so he can understand the appeal of high places from the contrarian toddler’s point of view… but mu are naturally physically weak. no one would have encouraged climbing trees, even if they had them. ]

…we didn’t have anything like that, anyway. Nazca was all red. Like I said, Papa managed to grow some flowers, but they didn’t—

[ he gestures back to the entrance, as they head toward the smell of food. ]

—do all that.

[baltimores]

... Because it's fun?

[ Incredulity meet bafflement. Why else would you do stuff for fun...

Nevermind. ]

Huh. Nazca sounds kinda like Mars. They were working on terraforming the planet, but I think it was gonna take them at least a couple hundred more years. Maybe more than that. Were your flowers red too?

[ And a little further into the building, this is... a lot of food options, actually. Amos suddenly stops, reaching out for Tony's arm to try to get him to stop, too. ]

At least there's no pollen here. Anything smell good to you?

[ So much smells good to him... ]

[tresemme]

They were pink. I used to pick them all the time to make stuff for Mama.

[ he’d been devoted to his grandpa from an early age, more or less the moment he was born, but he spent plenty of time at his mother’s side before everything went wrong. had keith never arrived on nazca, maybe he would have turned out differently. he certainly would not be this old, and maybe he would have never ended up in kenos.

would that have resulted in him dying along with his universe? who’s to say?

as amos turns their attention to the smells in the air, tony realizes it’s his first time with such an array of scents. never before has he seen so many options for cuisine in such a small space, not when highstorm is fairly bound by what alenroux can offer at the time. he doesn’t even know what half these things are—although he can read the literal words, thanks to the logic of the dream they’re in, that doesn’t mean he knows what “ramen” is, or what a “double bacon cheeseburger” entails other than the obvious. ]

You… can choose. I don’t care.

[ says the guy who has proven himself fairly picky, in his time under amos’ roof. ]

[baltimores]

[ Oh, fuck, Amos could go for a double bacon cheeseburger. Not that it's something he's ever had in his life, but he knows what bacon is. He knows what cheese is. He knows what burgers are. At some point he has had all three, but separately — and also, it's been a long time. ]

Cool. [ The word is casual, but there's an underlying excitement in his voice that belies his status as an adult and makes him sound more like a sincere teenager. He's already drifting over towards that line, shooting Tony a grin as he figures he's coming right along with him. ] I dunno about you, but pretty sure this is about to blow my mind.

[ Does Tony have any dietary restrictions? Is he okay with eating meat? These are questions that do not occur to Amos, because he is stoked about the chance to eat a double bacon cheeseburger for the first time in his life.

But to his credit, not so stoked that he can't continue their more meaningful conversation — especially since the line is decently-sized, so it'll be some minutes before they can order anything. ]

Pink like your hair? [ Amos' voice softens as he looks back at Tony, genuinely curious. ] I tried making some stuff for... well, she wasn't my mom, but she raised me. Never used flowers though, and we had some like those ones outside.

[ The cherry blossoms. After a beat, ] Maybe I should've tried. Never occurred to me that I could do that. It's nice that you did.

[tresemme]

[ tony follows amos into the line. even if his excitement is a little closer to a teenager’s, tony regards him as the absolute authority as long as they’re together. the only thing that could usurp him now is if his grandpa quite literally showed up in this line, but since that’s completely impossible, tony accepts he’s following amos’ lead.

if this were a battleground, tony would protect him. that’s how he reasons he’s paying amos back for his guidance. ]

Huh?

[ he curls a lock of hair between his fingers, and his gaze softens slightly as he realizes that the flowers and his hair were both similar colors after all. ]

Yeah, I guess so. [ pause. ] …humans don’t have their own children in your world, either? You didn’t have a mother?

[ that’s how he interprets amos’ explanation of his family situation; it’s not strange to him, and in fact, it brings him a small measure of comfort after experiencing so many new things in succession that there’s still something familiar. ]

[baltimores]

[ In one way, Amos is aware of the way Tony is following him. Is even honoured by it, because it means a lot to him for someone to put that level of trust in him. He's wanted to be this for other people, but actually getting there? Living with it in this moment? It feels good.

In another way, though, he's still a little oblivious, not seeing how deep this may be running for him. For Amos, it's just... guide the kid. Protect him. Be a good role model, look after him. Not like a parent, but... ... a guardian.

And in a third way, he's really stoked about this cheeseburger. Cognizant that he doesn't have any money on him, so he's eyeing the guy in front of him, because he had grown up a bit of a delinquent, and this isn't too new a scene...

Turns his attention back to Tony, smiles at him confirming the flowers' colour. It's sweet. Nice of him, to do for his mom—

Blinks at the question, because he hadn't been expecting that. ]

No, I had a mom. She died young. [ It's not like he's upset about it or anything, merely relaying it as fact. It was so long ago. Not like he had a chance to get attached. ] She would've raised me if she could, but since she was gone, her friend did. Gave me as good a life as possible.

[ A beat as he looks back ahead at the line, at the guy in front of them, measuring him up... But then back to Tony, still soft. ]

Friend of mine had three moms and five dads, and they all raised him. [ He laughs a little, because what the fuck, right? ] Another friend said she was raised by an aunt, but I dunno if they were related by blood or if she was just someone who took her in or what. It's different for everyone, I think. You kind of just end up with who you end up with, and then you go from there.