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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
[ Yuri responds without hesitation. He's expressed openly that his world has its problems — and that he has every intention of saving it. That hasn't changed and he can't imagine what could ever make him think otherwise. The innocent don't deserve to be consigned to oblivion just because there are terrible people out there too.
Besides, sometimes those who seem irredeemable aren't. Sometimes, they just need another chance or the opportunity to prove themselves more and better than what they have been. He has to believe that, both for his people and for himself. ]
It does matter. [ It has to. ] Else, what have we gone through various hells for?
no subject
["There are decisions, and there are consequences," as Jespar would say. They didn't always see eye to eye, but she could agree with him on a great many other things. Their shared cynicism happens to be one of them.
[Jade takes a long swig from the bottle. Liquor does very little to assist the dull ache in her head, but it does keep other things at bay. Like the way swallowing makes it more difficult to start crying again.
[After a moment, she glances around at the cemetery, before thunking the back of her head against the gravestone she's been leaning on. Probably not the most respectful practice, but what do the dead care?]
My family never got to be buried in a place like this, y'know. Pretty sure they never even get so much as a simple headstone like the folks here, with nice little engravings and epitaphs.
[Her eyes squint as she reads the tombstone in front of her, but the letters start to blur with her vision.]
Ach, fuck. Can't read that shit. [She rubs her face with her free hand.] Probably some holy bullshit, anyways. But, whatever. Must be nice.
no subject
[ He spares the headstone a glance, wistful and fleeting, and returns his attention to Jade. ]
I'm not about to pretend my goddess had a hand in all of that. I think the reason we survive lies within ourselves.
[ If Yuri's brutally honest with himself, he may be where he is because of equal parts love and spite. He adores his mother and he's been doggedly determined to live at the very least for her sake. Much of what he had endured was in order to support and provide for her.
At the same time, he'd hated the people who used him, who treated him as a means to an end. A substitute, a toy, an obsession. He'd been many things to nobles he'd come to despise, none of them for any reason better than needs must. Yuri'd be a liar if he claimed he wasn't motivated in some measure by exacting justice on the corrupt... Most often by draining their coffers.
You know, as one does. ]
Suffering can end. We can make it end — but only if we keep surviving. Keep fighting.
no subject
Blazes. You and Dimitri really are from the same world, aren't you?
[He had touted similar words. Nonsense, as far as Jade is concerned, but far be it from her to dash on someone's desires to make the world a better place. It's an admirable goal, truly. Even if she didn't believe in it.
[After a moment, she closes her eyes, letting out a long exhale as her grip tightens around the neck of the bottle.]
Idealism doesn't stop plagues, or persuade fanatics from crucifying those that they perceive different from them. You can fight and claw and scream and scrape, but in the end, there's always gonna be some asshole who wants to be on top. I don't believe in gods or paradise. Heck, I'm starting to think even free will itself is something of a joke.
[Her fingers flex. The more she talked, the louder her voice, half-yelling in frustration and anger. But when she speaks again, her words are quiet, as the Boy from Silvergrove flashes in her head again. Not the idealized version of himself that he dreamt up with his wishes, but his true self, twisted and curled up in agony. Sad. Pathetic. Painful.] That kid didn't deserve to suffer. He didn't deserve to die like that just because he wasn't born "normal" like his rich snob of a father wanted. I can't even... I didn't even...
[Another drink.
(Just don't you fucking cry.)
[And the bottle is empty.]
no subject
[ He knows this well. His beliefs and pursuits align best with Dimitri's, but he's well aware that Claude's set his own sights high. The difference is what he deems most pressing to change and how he means to go about it, but that's something for Jade to discuss with the man herself if she has both occasion and inclination. ]
Nothing changes if no one resists it. If no one tries to make it better. I had no real power to begin with. I've fought for everything I have, and I don't doubt that I'll need to work with Dimitri [ the one back home, whom he knows so much less personally than the one he met here ] to have a real chance... But for all those who have been trampled by those with power, I'll keep clawing my way through.
[ It's the goal he'd set for himself, when his mother's kindness had led to him being saved from a plague that should have claimed him as it did so many others. Just as he'd been saved, he'd resolved to save another who needed it... But what he found was that there were so many who needed saving.
More than he could ever hope to, he knows. He's already failed so many times, yet if he stops, those losses will pile up further. ]
We can't do a damn for those who have already died, save settling their business. Even that doesn't change what befell them... But we can fight to ensure those deaths aren't an inevitability and that the people who made them suffer get what's coming.
[ That's justice, so far as he's concerned. ]
no subject
[And right now, she's fighting the nausea and emotions that come from seeing the ones you love die all over again, just as she does almost every time she closes her eyes.]
Make them suffer, huh?
[It's all Jade finally says at first, starting to reach for the Shard of her world that had been hanging around her own neck... only to remember that it's not even there anymore.
[With a heavy exhale, she just throws the empty bottle instead. It crashes against one of the tombstones and shatters. The disrespect.]
Yup, that should be easy. I'm a right fucking magnet for making bad shit happen to people around me.
no subject
[ Hell, Dimitri had described feeling downright haunted by the ghosts of the family who'd been massacred around him. Fódlan may know nothing of psychology as a science, but Yuri knows survivor's guilt. His nation, his village — they'd been ravaged by plague for years. He understands well how it felt for people to die all around him, yet be saved himself.
The details differ, but the weight of being the one who lived remains. Now, he suspects Jade carries a similar weight on her shoulders. It'd explain a fair few things about her. He can work with that. ]
Sometimes, we just have to ensure bad things happen to bad people — at least as best we can.
[ Yuri imagines Dimitri might not necessarily approve of that, but then again, even someone willing to give others every chance in the world reaches a point of deeming some unsalvageable. ]
no subject
[But she doesn't argue against letting bad things happen to bad people, or claim that they should be better than that. She never will.]
I'm not... a good person, either. [The words feel like molasses in Jade's mouth when she speaks, covering her face in her hands, one of them still clutching Yuri's handkerchief.] But I also know justice is a fickle bitch. Doesn't always hit the people it should nearly as fast as those who suffer for it.
[And it's always the innocents who get hurt the hardest. Otherwise, justice wouldn't be necessary.]
no subject
[ He shrugs again, as though it's a simple reality he's accepted about himself. That he acknowledges as one would bad weather, well beyond their control. The truth of the matter is that Yuri neither accepts nor forgives the things he's done, no matter his reasons.
His homeland is deeply chivalric, of course he doesn't meet his own ideals, no matter how he yearns to. He can't save people by walking an honorable path. Not yet. ]
But I'd wager those innocent people out there need us.
[ They've seen the ugliness of what's been perpetrated against those who can't defend themselves, and so they know what they want to rid their worlds of. If they let all of this crush them, they can never change it. ]
no subject
Yeah. Poor, poor people.
[The innocents could probably be better off without the help of someone like her -- but she's the one they got, in the end. And that may as well just be the way of things; the world doesn't always need virtuous do-gooders with wool over their eyes. Sometimes, it needs broken people who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty. No doubt Tharaêl would've had a bloody field day with that admission.
[Fingers sliding down her cheeks, she looks at the remnants of her bottle, pieces of glass scattered over grave dirt and grass. She can't help but breathe out a joyless laugh.]
Blazes. I most definitely just offended someone's ancestors.
no subject
Honestly? We probably all have, in ways we don't even know.
[ There are so many that have died before their lifetimes, it'd be more likely than not. Seeing as most of them can't speak to the dead, much less for them, they likely won't ever know in what ways they may have caused that offense.
But there's nothing for it, really. ]
no subject
Yes, well. Not everyone can see the dead to be concerned with such things.
[The way she talks, she's definitely not just referring to the metaphysical dead. At one point, that was the case, but as a Phasmalist? Not anymore.]
Maybe they'll take an... offering?
[As in on cue, some ravens that had been circling the cemetery swoop down to the ground, pecking at the earth. Luckily with Jade and Yuri being crouched and sitting, they're not as at risk of getting dive-bombed. But still. An idea forms.]
Ah. [Jade grabs the bag of bread she had purloined from the village.]