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

[zauneyete]

[ His fingers stall, and he relaxes slightly. ]

Doubtful.

[ He said flatly, his tone almost tired of hearing things like that, but he tipped his head toward Tony after a long moment, appraising. The kid was clearly... trying, but Silco was a perceptive man. He had seen people struggle with their place time and time again, and hell, even he had at one point. It was unsurprising. People simply didn't want to do what was best for themselves. They didn't want to toss everything aside for a goal. He hadn't either, it had simply been taken. ]

Do not tell me you don't want to gather it for yourself, hm? It would help cement the victory, were we to assist in obtaining this shard.

[ He tipped his head back to the shaft, as if to indicate that he was more than welcome to try himself, had he found Silco's efforts lacking. ]

[tresemme]

I know that. [ he snaps. ] I didn’t say I wasn’t going to help.

[ it just makes him so squeamish to think of digging the heart out of this world and forcing it to die. it’s a cruelty that he should be fine with, for all he’s talked about his history—and yet, he thinks of the people he’s met just in passing, and all the lives that would be snuffed out.

no, he has to remind himself. lives that were already snuffed out. it’s just that they’re not going to bring them back, the natural order of things. ]

Didn’t I tell you I was going to be the one to win this for us?

[zauneyete]

[ Silco's eye blinked, but the other just stared at the boy for a long moment. Searching, piercing. As if he can see something deeper than the bluster, as if he's trying to meter out the reality and the pretense. Nobody who talks themselves up as much as Tony has is doing anything other than covering for themselves, and Silco knows it. he knows what that sounds like, given how many people try to make themselves act and be bigger than they really were, where he was from.

His lips twitched. ]

How many have you won for us thus far?

[ He asked, his tone curious. ]

I would be more than happy to put in a good word for you, if you've been pursuing shards with dedication.

[tresemme]

I—have.

[ the way he stumbles over his words, despite everything going into his body language to make sure that he looks confident, gives him away. ]

It’s just hard, you know? I didn’t sign up for a scavenger hunt.

[ the time for action, however, has come—tony could probably get that shard out and make himself useful, and then silco would stop haranguing him about his loyalty to the cause. ]

[zauneyete]

[ No number, of course. Silco leveled Tony with a look that said, very clearly, that he knew what that meant.

Not that Silco had won any either, yet. But they would come, he knew it. ]

We also do not sign up for our worlds to be destroyed, to encounter gods, or decide the fate of our world, and yet, here we are.

[ He said with his hands spread. ]

We are forced into this life, but it prizes one thing: adaptability. It does not matter what you want to do, when it comes to the oracle. The only path we can accept is toward victory.

[tresemme]

[ if silco were a completely different person, then his words would be inspiring. he almost, for a moment, sounds like jomy—tony could be inspired, if that were the case. he would do anything for victory under the banner of his most beloved grandpa. ]

…

[ silco is a markedly less beloved grandpa, but his words nonetheless resonate in tony’s chest; he turns his gaze to the elevator shaft that silco had earlier been trying to pry open. ]

That nasty place from before was your world, right? I’d want to burn it all down too, if I was born there.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco is so fargone, so fervent and driven mad by his own loss that it is sometimes easy to forget that he does have a way with words, even if he often doesn't use them, in favor of violence and bullying. Tony's hesitation is enough to think that he may have gotten through, and his eyes tipped toward the elevator, and then up. ]

It was a poor illusion of it.

[ He said, curtly. ]

Lacking in anything that made it worthwhile. [ His fingers feel at the elevator shaft again. ] It cannot bring back what is already gone, so it tries to sweet-talk us with falsehoods and lies.

[ A twitch of his lips. ]

Perhaps we will see yours, and you will know it for the lie that it is. They are already gone. I'm content leaving the past in the past.

[ He is a liar, but the shard he now keeps close is a secret he guards with his life. ]