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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: silco,
- arknights: gavial,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- culture (the): demeisen,
- divinity original sin: fane,
- enderal: jade the prophetess,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fate grand order: tezcatlipoca,
- fate/: rin tohsaka,
- fate/: sakamoto ryouma,
- fire emblem: shez,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- forgotten realms: raphael,
- howl's moving castle: howl,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- life is strange: chloe price,
- oc: liem talbott,
- oc: matt jamison,
- pumpkin scissors: alice l. malvin,
- suikoden: yuber,
- terra e: tony asuka,
- tsubasa reservoir chronicle: subaru
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
no subject
[It pisses her off that he resists without actually fighting back. She'd rather an all-out battle or full submission. This halfhearted in-between simply makes her blood boil. What riles her even further is the idea that "there is an easier way". Yeah, as if he'd just give himself up to pain and humiliation. As if he'd just lay himself at her feet and thank her for the chance to be branded.
Though... oddly enough perhaps Emiya would. His eagerness to please even at (or perhaps especially to) detriment of himself was something that Rin could recognize even during her limited time with him. The thought sits heavy, like a pit in her stomach, because many Meridians she had become familiar with over time have shown the same type of self-sacrificing behavior. Made even worse by coming across her own Dreamer Shard, Aspected as an Advocate. If she were the type of person to be slotted as such... she perhaps would have picked Meridian as well.
Which gives Rin an idea.]
Perhaps this can be solved without violence. Are you willing to bare your back to me? Confident you would survive exposing yourself in such a fashion?
no subject
You're using magic, aren't you? It would be silly of me to think a few layers of material would make a difference. If you'd pointed a gun at me, that'd be different.
[ Even in a sorry state, he's confident in his durability against conventional weapons. ]
Baring myself to you would be more likely to reveal exactly where to aim if you wanted to destroy me, but I've never made a point of trying to hide those anyway, so the more important question is — why?
It's not me you need, right? I doubt you even know who I am other than a Meridian. If I refuse, you'll find someone else.
[ She's not wrong about Ryouma's capacity for self-sacrifice. It's in his nature as a person and as a Servant. He would gladly give what passes for living in exchange for the life of any one of his fellow Meridians. So many of them have worlds and lives to go back to. Ryouma had already lived a full, if short, life. He'd had his time. It's the easiest choice in the world. ]
no subject
Rin continues to wait this conversation out. If she can do what she needs without wasting any of her energy on it that would be ideal. Not all of the worlds, but many of them, have their own obstacles. Monsters or rebellions — whatever they may be, she needs to survive to the end to make sure her efforts count. Preying on Ryouma's own nature will be a boon if she can manage it.]
That's correct. It's not personal and if you prove to troublesome I will certainly find someone else.
no subject
As soon as he decides, Ryouma is struck with an intense feeling of unease, so firmly and obviously an objection to his resignation to cooperate that he's sure it must be Oryou. The idea that she's in distress being forced to passively observe in whatever state her consciousness exists pains him, but just like that time he told Izō to kill him if it would make him feel better, Ryouma gently brushes that aside because his mind is already made up.
His long silence here might've been attributed to careful thought if all of that hadn't likely escaped containment thanks to Harbinger bleed-through. ]
Nah, it's a good thing it's me you ran into because I'll save you some trouble.
[ Under no circumstances will he pass the buck onto someone else, which is why his decision had been so final. ]
So? If you still want me to take my clothes off, you can at least tell me who's asking.
no subject
You may curse the name, "Siren" should any trouble befall you after this. And really, no need to fully undress. I just want your bare shoulders.
[In truth she'd rather not see him fully undressed. The less she sees of her victim the better. Tohsaka doesn't want to know more than she has to. A sudden fit of sympathy for her prey would be inconvenient.]
no subject
[ Well, he shouldn't be surprised that she only gives him a codename, but he supposes it's better than nothing.
Ryouma starts by untying the scarf tied around his neck, pulling the strip of fabric loose and shoving it in his pocket before he unfastens the large metal buttons and can loosen up the fitted leather jacket enough to slide it down to expose his neck and shoulders. ]
Whatever you're planning, think you could avoid Miss Kiritsubo's hard work?
[ What he's referring to are the stylised shapes of bird feathers and scales that comprise the visible edges of the large tattoo on his back.
After a moment of thinking about it, he squats down on his heels — which might help given the height difference — and there's plenty of ink-free real estate still available without needing to turn around. ]
no subject
[No, the truth is she doesn't care about preserving Kiritsubo's work. Any gift to a Meri should be nothing but a transaction or a foot in the door to infiltrate their ranks. Besides, she has already chosen a spot and won't deviate from it. Whether it overlaps with the tattoo or not is of no concern to Rin.
Ah, well... since she won't be using her magic to set his clothes aflame she'll heat up the metal brand so it burns red hot. Sure, she wasn't told that was a requirement, but with her understanding how brands work it seems only logical. When the heat has the end of her rod glowing, Rin raises it, and presses it to Ryouma's skin.
He'll feel it. The searing heat as it burns away his vellus hairs and scorches his flesh. The smell of it sickening. Her aim right beneath the base of his neck between his shoulder blades.]
no subject
Ryouma's pride would never allow him to let on about it, but there is no doubt. He doesn't make a sound, and his breathing stays relatively steady, but there are some things he can't control, like the way every muscle tenses and stays that way as long as the hot iron stays in contact. ]
Can't say I was expecting such a crude method, but it'll heal quick, I suppose.
[ He's certain he has some unknown magical effects to look forward to, but at least the burn will mend. ]
no subject
Rin lifts the brand from his body, and steps back. The indentation left behind makes her want to vomit, but... it's still nothing compared to finding the worm pit in Zouken's basement. The writhing insects squirming and searching for their next meal. Knowing her sister spent years buried in the center of it. Tohsaka will not falter, no matter the way in which her own actions have sickened her.
The deed is done. He accepted his fate without a fight. As such she should seek to escape quickly before he thinks retaliation would be an idea worth fancying.]
May you have better luck in the future.
[She doubts this will be the case. It's never about luck with these people. It's always about self sacrifice — uncaring of how their "selfless" actions may hurt those who care about them. Who rely on them. In fact one could even say such a person isn't reliable because they leave themselves open to exploitation.
She hates how, if she had been the type of person to be an Advocate, she'd probably be the same way.]
no subject
Maybe his counterpart — the owner of the Iconoclast Shard he'd acquired earlier — would've had it easier. If nothing else, he'd certainly have retaliated given the chance, but this Ryouma has no interest in reneging on that agreement, slowly shrugging his jacket back on instead. ]
Hah! Well, wouldn't that be nice?
[ She's right, but he's never counted on luck anyway.
Having done his part, Ryouma figures he can continue his trek back to the Safe Room. He doesn't bother to refasten the jacket to avoid having the fitted material against his skin right now, and he wasn't kidding when he said he doesn't bother to hide his Shards. After a few steps, though, he pauses. ]
I hope your reward is everything they said it'd be.
[ With a certain tone, those could easily be sarcastic words that he decides to toss back over his shoulder at the last minute, but he means it. Ryouma believes Zenith is chasing an ideal that experience has proven to be an impossible dream, so he's sure most of them have nothing but that same disappointment to look forward to. Considering he lives with that, it's not a feeling he would wish on anyone. ]