kenoslogs | THE ADVOCATE ORACLE - A RIP VAN WINKLE IN TIME

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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[ Raphael is a devil. Accomplished and powerful, no matter the figure that he cuts in his disguise as a readily-crumpled mortal man; the silver in his hair and the age lines upon his face are mere choice he's made, Drizzt knows. Viscerally, he knows; he comprehends the devils and demons of his world with the familiarity of experience in fighting them, as well as a youth spent being educated on their uses and dangers and splendor. The dark-loving drow had always summoned and utilized both demons and devils to give themselves an edge against their latest rivals, to earn the attentions of their fickle goddess — being exposed to Menzoberranzan's depravity once more had been both devastating and sobering.

And a reminder, that Raphael could choose to handle himself. If he had the right motivation to. ( In his heart, he whispers: Change, you horrible creature. Change and survive. Because he knows survival is the core drive of all living things, horrible and simple as it sounds. ) To see the boar-like entity on this terrible isle charge him, and for Raphael to show no sign of reaction... it's — maddening, to the ranger. The worst situation to be in, for he cannot sit by and do nothing. Not even if the man in question is a devil.

It's why he falls upon the creature with a frustrated sound, digging blade into the back of its spine until he can scissor the edges closed and neatly, powerfully, sever its spinal column like a prowling cat that's just descended upon its prey. Drizzt rolls with the creature, tightening his thighs around its shoulders to ensure it dies quick and does not reach the devil — because, in the end, he cannot look away from someone in need. Even if the world might be better off without them.

It's not like he's seen Raphael do anything sinister. Yet. He's postured and proposed, but not actually done anything wicked or depraved ( FREAKING DEVILS ), which means —

Drizzt lifts his head from the still, slain beast, and glowers at Raphael from below the fall of his pale hair. ] Really? Really? Are you that lazy!?

[ Raphael had known the beast was there, of course. He may not have been enlisted into the Blood War, but he had watched many a battle from his balcony at the House of Hope, and sipped at his wine, and enjoyed his indulgences. He was a man who had enjoyed a great deal of sights overlooking the plains of Avernus. He knew what demons smelled and sounded like, and this boar-like creature was no different. Raphael wanted, honestly, to see the surprise in its eyes when he held it with a wave of his hand, and sucked the life out of it, for daring to attack him.

Him!

Ah, but Drizzt, the hero, had come to save him.

He laughed. ]

My dearest hero in leathers! I'm delighted that you thought I required saving.

[ His hand rose to his brow, and he mimicked a swoon. ]

What would I have done, if you had not been here?

Succumbed to the thing, hopefully.

[ A dry answer, rich with that burst of sarcasm even the ranger had.

It isn't the first time that Drizzt has felt anger toward himself, for having the motive and drive to preserve life — even the life of a devil, yet has also lain down the line in stone and made promise of his decision to clip the poison from Zenith's own rank. He'd take the head of anyone who sought to annihilate another Shard-Bearer as Quetzalcoatl had been, and was working on doing just that.

Silco would be first, and Akechi would follow if ever his word became action.

Raphael, unfortunately, did not seem the type to slaughter for power or conquest, likely because live targets gave him a wider variety to his nefarious ends. So, he was to be preserved: a devil, but one who had the right to exist in the world to come. Drizzt could deal with him there, if need be. For now, protecting his life was... regrettably necessary. ]

It is a beast. What pleasure could you take from ending it, that would be at all satisfying? It knows killing and being killed, not enough to have fear of either!

[ Slowly, he extricates himself from its corpse, and begins to approach the devil. Cautious, but bold. DAMN YOU RAPHAEL ]

Anyways, I wanted your assistance. You're as good as any.

[ His lips twitched as he looked at the thing. ]

It is a demon, it knows little else. And yet, knowing how it moves, how it hunts, and yes, how it attacks, can be illuminating if we are to learn how these creatures work. After all, we will encounter more, will we not?

[ Raphael's hands are outstretched, however, half to accept Drizzt as if he were to hug him, and half for the drama of it all. The seemingly human man looked modest — or as modest as a man in such finery could look — but Drizzt knew better than most. Had not only seen him in the fullness of his devilry (and nakedness hehe) but also was aware of what that meant. One could say he was just a Cambion, but...

Well, most Cambions were not quite as powerful as Raphael was. It was dangerous to discount him on only that. ]

What sort of assistance can I provide, my friend? [ A beat. ] You know better than most what asking of it costs.

THE ADVOCATE ORACLE - A RIP VAN WINKLE IN TIME

SIGHS,

hi baby 😘

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