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

[damnpire]

[tries to post this 2984928928 times but dw is dying

Well, this at least answers some of D's inquiry about what kind of being Raphael actually is; something which could bypass the horrors of Noble security. Some cautious apprehension bubbles up in him. Not really about fighting, just about being pincered in by two powerful beings.]

It's a castle belonging to Mayerling, a vampire Noble. I'm a vampire hunter. I'm here to kill him.

[He delivers this very matter-of-factly, like it's business, and not with any sort of emotion behind it. No anger, no spite. It could be a bit of a warning for Raphael who he assumes might not care. And, unfortunately, might be more intrigued than anything.]

Do you plan to stand in my way?

[narsinssist]

On behalf of said vampire noble?

[ He asked, stroking his chin, thoughtfully. ]

He has not asked me to.

[ It is not a no, but it certainly implies that it is. Raphael, after all, would not simply aid someone — even an ally — for free, after all. ]

Do you think you will be able to dust him up with few troubles? Or will he be a rather... difficult opponent?

[ (Don't) ]

[damnpire]

[The domino pieces are all lining up. Raphael definitely acts not unlike what D has seen of the Nobility. Strangely respectable on the surface, an odd adherence to manipulative etiquette, but deceptively arrogant.

Maybe not quite so deceptively.]

He has been alive a long time and is powerful.

[He does not say whether that will pose him any issue, but the truth is, it very well could. D is confident in his strengths, but logical enough to know he is not unkillable, or undying. Any vampire run-in could spell his demise.]

What are you looking for?

[He wants to say he does not need Raphael's help, but he wants to know what Raphael is after in repayment first.]

[narsinssist]

Ah, a long life can mean a wealth of experience! Such creatures can be quite dangerous to any number of experienced adventurers.

[ Raphael tipped his head, though, as he considered D's question. His fingers almost danced, as he gestured. It's a theatric thing, but it's all smoke and mirrors, really. The appearance of a raconteur whom speaks a great deal but says nothing — until one listens to the words between what he said. ]

Quite the question. In general, I look for something to catch my attention, perhaps an advantage, or a promise for later.

[ He knew what D was asking, and answered accordingly. ]

From my fellow bearers? I ask for the promise of a favor. Only one. To be asked of later. [ A finger into the air. ] You are free to refuse to fulfill it, should it seem detestable. However, it is not to be utilized as an avoidance tactic.

[ Seems to be a pretty good deal, actually. ]

[damnpire]

[D realizes he honestly isn't surprised this is the answer he receives. Or the bargain he's extended either. For a long moment, he's as quiet as he usually is, contemplating whether he wants to bother handing someone the opportunity to ask anything of him later.

The lack of real freedom isn't lost on him. He has the ability to choose his refusal, but...]

And what happens when I decide to refuse?

[Raphael hadn't mentioned what came after the instance of breaking a kind of sealed deal. As a man who always honors his promises, he knows how important the Deal Seal is to people.]

[narsinssist]

[ Raphael shook his head. ]

If it is within reason — morally objectionable, for example — then the favor will be extracted at a later date. Should you be fully killed having refused every possible favor I have offered you...

[ A smile. ]

That becomes much more difficult, does it not?

[ Bearers had made this more complicated, but no more so than other immortals. There were caveats for long lives, after all. ] I must request a favor at least thrice, for your soul to be forfeit. You may continue to refuse, of course, for as long as we both live.

[ Unlike demons (coughsebastiancough) Raphael did not kill those he took. They got to live out their time with the results of their bargain. In this case, with a favor being asked by a wheedling devil every now and then. ]

[damnpire]

[He stands there for a long time without responding, still looking at Raphael. If it makes Raphael at all uncomfortable, this may or may not have been on purpose. But finally, he says:]

Alright.

[Logically, he does not through himself into stupid situations often; however, he is confident in caveats. Also, ignoring how things work here in Kenos, he has lived for a very long time. Nothing is perhaps more annoying for a demon than having to lean into the patience of waiting for a person to die.]

I accept.

[narsinssist]

[ Unfortunately, D, he positively preens under his gaze as he stares. He examines his nails, and even brushes at his (already perfect) hair idly, offering D a smile as he does so.

He's so incredibly cringe. ]

Excellent!

[ He says, and there is a flash as he snapped his right fingers, and with a rush of flame it is not a human that stands before D, but a devil. Red skin, horns, wings, and all, his human guise belies the man's true height as well, a more impressive frame that looks honestly right at home in this Amano-esque gothic dream.

Next to him floats a piece of parchment, and a quill. There is no ink in it. The writing is extensive, but it is in the common speech amongst bearers, something they can all understand. How fortunate for D! There is fine print, of course, but. If he opts to read it, most of the clauses have to do with rescinding from the deal at a later date, attacking Raphael directly, or other ways of trying to get out of the deal.

He really is like a lawyer who enjoys too much community theater. ]

Shall we cement our deal?

[damnpire]

[The preening he should have expected. Once the veil of disguise drops, it only solidifies what he had half known already. There is no real surprise.

Raphael fits in with the embellished, lavish castle labyrinth, the illusions, the gargoyle guardians, the arrogance whittled into the Nobility.

D finally turns and slowly and casually descends the twisting stairs he had risen, joining Raphael on the ground floor with the typical devil's contract. This tracks. Raphael is put under the same patience again: D reads the entire deal he is signing, though he is fairly quick about the process.]

Does your deal ignore the rules of dissipation here?

[narsinssist]

[ Honestly? Raphael always enjoys someone who actually takes the time to read it. He puts real work into his contracts, and D will notice that even with legal jargon such as subclasses and subsections, it's in... meter. And Verse. Like an epic poem forced into the constraints of a legal document.

He always had gone the extra mile. ]

Dissipation is no true death, so of course. I believe it is Clause twenty, Subclause D, for Dissipation.

[ Even amongst all of this, all of the tidings and trappings of a vast gothic castle, grand and towering, Raphael managed to sound nearly like a bored bureaucrat. ]

[damnpire]

Mm.

[D thinks this tracks for a demon, and a Raphael-specific demon no less. Both the clause and the poetry of the entire document. Dramatic. Impressive, but dramatic.

He glances between the quill and the paper. He's always been a man of his word, unfortunately. He reaches up to take it, to sign it without the need for any ink because that is something else entirely expected out of this whole ordeal.

As edgy of an image as he exudes, his handwriting is a moderately elegant script, near, tidy. Old. The only thing he signs is this fabulously single letter--D--but that isn't not his name regardless of how much it looks like a moniker. He has been D for a very long time.]

[narsinssist]

[ A name, is a name, is a name. Monickers, designations, the intent is what matters, and the sign of a contract in something more than ink — a promise. If one could change their name, or sign someone else's, it certainly would be an easy way to outsmart the devil, and Raphael smiled when D signed it, his sharp, fanged mouth split into delight. ]

Excellent!

[ He says, with a clap of his hands. The contract burst into a line of flame, and then vanished, and Raphael's wings stretched, as the devil tipped his head upward, as if he were searching for their target already. ]

Now, shall you direct me toward our shared target? I think a Vampire Lord would be fun to play with.

[ At least he does not lack for excitement. ]