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

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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[ There's confusion at first on Atsumu's part as he makes his way through this dirty, choked, mess of a city. That people manage to live here in this stagnant, barely breathable air... that so many people live here given that fact, really surprises Atsumu. He presses a hand over his face at first, but it makes it even harder to take in what gulps of oxygen he can, so he's quick to drop it again as he struggles to accumulate to the environment of this new world.

It's a place he doesn't belong either, and it's clear from every sneering look or leer he gets while passing by that he stands out like a sore thumb, looking lost and confused as he turns this way and that, trying to find somewhere more peaceful, maybe at least just a little cleaner.

Instead what he finds is Silco, standing amongst a wall of muscle as tall as Atsumu is, looking as at home as a man can.

Was this the world that Silco came from...? It explained a little about the man. ]

Just tryin' to get my bearings here. This youe uh... office, I guess?

[ The building he's standing in front of right now. ]

[ Silco's eyes tip upward toward the sign, and then back to Atsumu. Lit by the too-bright light of the eye behind him — making a somewhat short and rather dumpy-looking building look sleeker — Silco's eye almost glows brighter in this dim underground. Kowloon was dank, and dark, but it was not slovenly like Zaun was. It isn't a place where it looks like men barely scrape, where people starve. Oh, they have their complaints, but it is not like this.

His lips curl into a slight smile. ]

My nightclub, yes.

[ He says, as if there is a difference, and perhaps there is to him. ]

There are some things that we cannot get away from, when we arrived in Kenos — or Horos — he pointed out. Atsumu had met Silco early on in one of those clubs, where he had schmoozed the owner into giving them free passage. Silco had... deteriorated somewhat, since then, hadn't he? Became more violent, more driven, less of a handle on his own sanity, the more that Zenith ate away at him, the more his daughter's revival seemed out of reach...

He blinked his single eye, but then tipped his attention back to Atsumu. ]

Isn't it ironic, that of all the places, the Advocate dumped us here first? Have you enjoyed the sights?

[ The run down buildings, the piles of trash, the pipes that pump the sump from Piltover down to the undercity. There are no sewers topside, it just pumps everything down. ]

[ Office does tend to imply something else entirely, though the only times that Atsumu has really frequented places like this have been when Silco has made group invites of the entirety of their side. Besides a couple of short run-ins with alcohol, Atsumu has done a remarkable job of not turning to substances as a form of distraction from his newly acquired and still building pile of woes. That means there's not a lot of point to him visiting bars or clubs where the purpose is as much what people are ingesting (in one way or another) more than the dancing itself.

So his knowledge of establishments like this come from movies and tv shows, and he has to say... those unsurprisingly look a lot more cleaned up and nicer than the real thing now that he's eyeing the building with a small frown. If he's being painfully honest though, it still looks a lot better than the rest of the city around it. Though as his gaze moves away from it and flits across the streets around him he can't help but think that's pretty damning with faint praise. ]

Dunno if enjoyin' is exactly the word I'd use for it.

[ He's not even trying for tact here. He doesn't think Silco would particularly appreciate it anyway. ]

This really what it looks like? Where you're from...

Hm, then you share an experience with us. We don't either.

[ He says it bluntly. ]

Yes, this is where I'm from. Where I grew up, in fact. Where I got this — [ A single finger rises to indicate the scar covered with makeup, and the ever-open eye ] — and where we've been fighting for legitimacy since before I was born.

[ Yeah, Silco's sense of the dramatic seems to fit in with this place. The way he gestures, Atsumu can notice that people watch, and follow. Not with reverence, but they know on whose coattails they might find freedom.

Or think they do, these projections. ]

How kind of the Advocate, hm? I assume the lot of us will be given the option to determine if this place has worth.

[ A tightening around one eye. ] It projects onto us where we come from, in an attempt to soften our hearts. I refuse to allow it.

[ Ah, the creepy eye... Atsumu's spent too much time around Silco at this point to really be bothered by it anymore, but he still remembers the jolt he'd felt when he first saw the man's face. So much had happened to him in such a short time period that a man with a scar and a messed up eye was hardly the most jarring thing he'd come across though, but it didn't stop a fresh from a normal world Atsumu from feeling a little unnerved by it.

Funny when he thinks about it now, because it's probably Silco's actions that should be unnerving to him at this point.

... Funnier in a way that isn't funny at all that instead of being unnerved by them though, he feels a resigned sort of understanding as to why Silco goes to the extremes he does, and seeing the festering pit he came from, it makes even more sense.

This is not a world Atsumu would want to return to either.

He frowns at Silco's assessment, looking at the faces of the phantoms that are milling around them, lingering for a little longer on Silco's bodyguards. ]

You think the Advocate is already on Meridian's side here? 'Cause it's kinda fucked up for an Oracle to pick a side before we even get started.

It is on its own side, but it is asking us to understand, is it not?

[ His voice turned sarcastic, and mocking. Silco has no love for an Advocate, and despite it being a complimentary aspect to his own, he has projected a personality onto it that it doesn't have. Then again, it's Silco, if he wasn't projecting, was he even living? ]

Why else would they ask? What could be the point, other than to try and tug at us. Make you understand where we come from, or even more importantly: force nostalgia when there should be none?

[ After all, the most important thing — the only thing — Silco would have saved in Zaun is not there. He grew up here, he fought for this place, and was scarred by it. He loved Zaun, but he would give all of it up without question for just one thing.

And the Advocate could not even give him that.

So he hated it! Of course! ]

[ They differ heavily in that regard. Advocates tend to be the aspect that Atsumu drifts towards the most. The number of them that he's met and liked has probably been higher than any of the other groups around here. Gray, D, Gavial... formerly Dimitri... It's an aspect full of a lot of very solid people by Atsumu's measure.

Though the fact that Silco sneers at them wouldn't really surprise him given what he knows of the man.

He looks around at the city, and offers Silco a grim smile of his own as he asks, the sarcasm ratcheting up in his own voice-- ]

Not feelin' a big kick of nostalgia bein' here then?

[ He imagines if he was from a place like this he sure wouldn't be right now. ]

Why would I?

[ He asked, and there's a tone about it that says, very clearly, that Zaun has fallen short. To be fair, the thing that would have motivated Silco to vote to preserve isn't here, and even the goons nod somewhat knowingly, as if the fact that Silco wasn't fond of it didn't bother them.

Oh, he loved Zaun, and Silco looked like he fit into this city of iron and glass, sharp edges and warts aplenty. The people here looked beaten down, bedraggled, and hungry. Not just for food, but something else. Legitimacy, money, something, anything. The only people who didn't were some of the wealthier barons, but even they were rare. Even the best amongst them were hungry. Silco included. ]

Is that not the point of zenith? To move on? To look at this, and understand that we will bring the best of where we came from, and bring them forward?

[ Yeah, it made perfect sense to Atsumu even without the messaging of Zenith to keep in mind. This isn't the kind of place people looked back fondly on once they left it. Sure, they might have fond memories here and there because of someone who lived here, or some event that happened, but the setting itself was grim and grimy, the sort of city you'd seen in a movie about a dystopian future.

That Silco actually held a love for this place would be the bigger surprise for Atsumu. ]

Yeah, guess that's kinda the whole point.

[ Though he gives a skeptical look around him, and then with a lack of tact that would be shocking if Atsumu had not publicly put his foot in his mouth several times before, he asks-- ]

What's the best part you're gonna bring from here though?

[ This is not said with a tone of genuine curiosity, as if there are many wonderful traits that Silco will have to consider narrowing down, but a disbelief that anything from Zaun should even come over with them to their new world. ]

[ There is a moment where Silco stares at Atsumu suspiciously. He can't help it, deep in his soul, he is a paranoid little freak, and even the barest graze against that sensitive subject is enough to make the man's hackles rise, and his hostility come into play. His lips twitch, as he considers, before he decides that no, there is no way Atsumu would have picked up anything to make him ask such a pointed question.

Besides, she wasn't here, so there was nothing for him to learn. She'd been gone for so long, he wondered if the few people who had encountered her even remembered his daughter at this point. If she was anything more than a momentary blip on the entire expanse of bearer experiences before she was snuffed back out again.

For anyone but him, he supposed. To him, she was everything. ]

Strength. Determination. The ability to live, survive, and thrive no matter the circumstances. The genius that comes from our people here is one borne out of strife.

[ He gestured to the large constructions of metal and piping, the prosthetics on some of his own security. ]

We come from nothing, and yet we make something out of ourselves. Despite how much they force us down here, in to the Sump, we thrive. We have businesses, we have families, we make a home out of nothing.

Is that not something admirable to bring to the new world?

[ Silco's rants are well known to most Zenites by now. Here, however, it's different. It's less the crazed, frustrated, angry rantings of a madman, and this is more pointed, and sure. Like being here where they are amongst the dilapidated and crumbling structures, is where Silco actually does look like a beacon of... perhaps not hope, but something.

When one is surrounded by so much dirt, a shiny veneer catches the eye. ]

[ It's funny that the two of them had never had a conversation about Jinx. It's funnier (in a way that wasn't particularly funny at all) that Atsumu never knew that she was Silco's daughter in the first place. With the introduction he'd had to the girl, she wasn't someone that Atsumu would soon be able to forget, but she also might not be someone he could find it in him to sing the praises of.

In some ways it might be for the best that they never spoke about Atsumu's short lived acquaintanceship with her.

He'd been so dismissive with the question he asked, as if he hadn't been expecting Silco to actually pull out a real explanation for what he found admirable about his city of origin. The fact that the old man not only does manage to pull up several impressive enough sounding points in its favor, but they're ones that clear give Atsumu pause for a moment, isn't something he saw coming. ]

Yeah... alright... Guess that is stuff we're gonna need goin' forward.

[ Because that's literally what they're trying to do, isn't it? Make something, make a new home for themselves, out of nothing. ]

[ Truly, it's best, because if Atsumu ever said anything negative against the most perfect child in existence well.

Unfortunately, Silco's already unhinged enough. Let's be honest.

His lips curled into a scarred, quirk of a brief smile. ]

Correct.

I know there is this idea of a perfect world, but noworld will be perfect. If it is too perfect, and too... lazy, safety too much of a given, the people will not be strong enough to fight, or do anything with the purpose they have been given.

I do not intend to allow that, and I think... Yima did not either. [ He has not, of course, been willing to give up that Yima may not be dead, yet. ] For this new world, I can make this my purpose, where others may shy away.

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THE ADVOCATE ORACLE - A RIP VAN WINKLE IN TIME

Undercity I

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damn what happened to my html there lmao

it just decided to take a break, but it was easy to follow still!

even html needs a vacation

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