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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.
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What she doesn't look so assured about is the baby. A few of the teenagers that she returns with all similarly laden down with baskets do have little bundles too but one of the teenagers seeing Alice was a woman had just up and handed her this jinba foal. She had offered to help forage and carry but apparently carrying meant 'here, babysit this child'.
One teenager makes a cheeky comment as they pass her by that, "You don't have to be so careful, you know." and Alice flusters mightily.]
Of course not, infants are very sturdy ... I think ...
[Oh god, are they? The last baby she held had been abandoned at the gates of the military headquarters and Randel was the one who shoved it in her arms. The baby -- a boy -- she had easily given over to Stecchin after. Her time handling him was minimal. Thus Alice Malvin, ever ready to charge into a fight or tackle everything on her own, ends up picking her way back into the village with the delicacy of someone holding a Very Important glass statue.
The teenagers themselves seem just as ready to flock around Dimitri as the children. There's a lot of bustle in them taking off their baskets and beginning to sort out what they've brought back of course but there's equally plenty of questions from them too. Most of them aren't really that much older than the children he's already surrounded in.]
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They've got something going here. Even if the responsibility shouldn't have been thrust onto them in the first place.
It's only about ten minutes later when Dimitri finally has a chance to breath and he's not being clambered on anymore that he can flag Alice down for a brief word. ]
...I think we know why they're all out here now.
[ They'd had a guess before, but... ]
I don't know how much we can do for them while we're here, though.
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At least by the time Dimitri finds her again she both gotten far more used to babies than she ever thought she would until nobility necessitated she have her own and likewise passed them off to grateful older kids. That does make her feel like something of a heel of course.
The answer on what they can do is easy enough for Alice though.]
Help them mostly.
[She sighs out then, straightening out her back for the first time in a bit now. That includes her equine half too, done as she stretches her arms over her head.]
This is what war relief is all about. We may not be able to solve all of their problems for now but we can offer them the aid so they can replenish their will to fight and continue forward.
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[ He smiles a little sadly. ]
I worry that we can't actually stay to make sure they get on their feet. But we can't fix everything. And it's not our choice. Still... I feel badly that we'll eventually just be gone.
[ He shrugs. ]
...I suppose that's something I think about too much.
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I wouldn't say it's something you think on too much. It's true that we'll eventually be gone and won't be here to be of constant help. It would be good if we could be, just like it would be if we could do the same in every world touched by things like this -- war and loss, that is. We both know that's impossible though.
[However!]
While we are here you and I can help these children all we can. Then later we can help others in another world. Or perhaps in Kenos. You continue helping on and on because you can't always be in every place -- but you can help a little in every place that you go, yes?
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Exactly. And... there are places where I have the power to change a great deal. Just... not here. But even the little things - chores, simple labor, playing with children, helping with small tasks - all of it is worthwhile. If it makes someone's life easier, if it takes the weight off of their shoulders... it's worth doing. No matter how brief.
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There you go! Let's do what we can with the time we have, hm?
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[ The smack on the shoulder is actually kinda bracing. He shoots her a smile. ]
Giving them some time to play is worth doing. Children deserve to have their minds eased; to not carry the burdens of the world. That's our job, isn't it? To carry those as far as we can.
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That is certainly one of our duties as nobles. We are servants of the people in the end. To lift their burdens and in turn give them hope is an honor.
[She huffs out a little laugh.]
And a chance to play, of course. Merriment and pleasure are good for the spirit.
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[ Dimitri agrees, lips quirking into a smile. ]
So providing that... even if for only a little while is worth doing. Every little bit of hope and joy... that's something we can do.
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They're certainly not that different from the children I've seen at home.
[All the dashing and whatnot. Chasing each other? Alice hums in thought, expression gently curious.]
I wonder what the games they play are like? I've heard the children at home do that.
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[ Dimitri flashes her a little grin. ]
It might be educational.
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I-it wouldn't be right to play children's games at my age.
2/2
At least Dimitri can be amused from afar as Alice leans down a little to talk to one of the groups of children. The child she's speaking to is a filly of maybe six or seven, her head already up to Alice's withers. She gives Alice a surprised look but then readily taps Alice on her equine half around the shoulder and takes off after.
Alice just stands for a moment, looking bewildered. All the children scatter, shouting and laughing as Alice tries to glean what the hell is happening.
Thankfully one child is kind enough to shout the instruction, "TRY TO CATCH US!" and that seems to perk Alice up.]
Ah, a battle of stamina then!
[Thank goodness she knows how to use those legs now. Off she goes, moving surprisingly quick for being a stubby little draft type.]
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It's nice, he thinks, to be able to provide that sort of thing. After a moment he cups his hands over his mouth. ]
Give it your best, Alice!
[ Children, being children, are wily little things and are soon scattering all over the place trying to avoid her. The laughter feels a bit like a balm - at least to Dimitri. ]
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Still Alice isn't a quitter. The children scatter and it's a fuss of noise and the like. At times she reappears only to be chased off again. At least all the noise is good noise.
By the time some of the teenagers return with talk of hotpots and dinner Alice breathing heavily but not quite out of breath. She's also got at least one of the smaller children balanced over her equine half, forelegs over one side and backlegs over the other and draped like a sack of potatoes. The rest of the children are all flooding in in a wave, clearly now more interested in dinner than anything.
She twists a bit to pluck the child off of her and huffs a little laugh.]
I did successfully manage to wear at least one of them out.
[Does she look at least a little proud? Yes, okay. It was a lot of work!]
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I was watching. I think you did a very good job, all things considered. Children can be... very energetic right up until they aren't anymore. And more than that, I think you gave them an afternoon of fun. I think they'll remember that.
[ He sounds quite fond. ]
And I think that means we won't necessarily have to deal with making dinner, although clean-up is certainly going to be a group activity.
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I hope so.
[Once he's taken the foal Alice can't help but reach over and momentarily brush her fingers through the little one's hair.]
I don't doubt this world must have it's darker spots as every world has but I believe I'll miss this, as silly as it might sound.
[The children at home didn't look on her as kindly as these foals. The military was a source of broken hopes and crushed families for them. She didn't hold it against them of course, nor against the parents who equally distrusted any of the Imperial Army. How could she when she had seen the ugliness of the military itself first hand, the corruption ripe and thick.
She draws back, laughing at herself a little.]
Well, perhaps aside from cleaning up. I regret to inform you I've never had much hand in that.
[She's a noble, y'know. Even out in the field she's given preference as a member of one of the thirteen noble families.]
no subject
[ He smiles sadly. He remembers hearing from her and he wonders if elsewhere things are worse. If they still enslave people like this. But that's not for him to figure out at this point. ]
Truly? I've had my share of it in the past, but perhaps being a student among peers helped that along. Shall we go help?
[ He gestures, pointing with his chin. ]
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Her brows perk upward.]
Even as a student?
[With a nod Alice starts off the way all the children seem to be flowing, sheepishly scratching at the back of her neck as she does.]
Those of noble rank weren't expected to do such in my military school.
[Yet another aspect of her privilege she overlooked even all these years later.]
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[ He's not judging her, he's just... coming from a very different perspective. ]
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[Not that that's a surprise but --]
That wasn't a choice we were given. Nobles by and large did not mix with the general population and we certainly didn't do our own chores. It wasn't something I had to consider until I left school altogether and was put in the field.
[She huffs a gentle breath there, a momentary frown tugging at her lips before dissipating. They aren't old annoyances but they're certainly old arguments she's had.]
I likely never would have dealt with civilians as much as I do if I hadn't been assigned to the war relief unit and insisted on being hands on involved in the field.
[That hadn't pleased her father in the least either. It was fine for her to know how to use a sword and how to ride if it were confined to nice conversation pieces for her guests and soon-to-be husband. His derision for her "playing military" had hit her hard in the beginning but she's chiefly over it now, reconciling it with his parental worry over her.
Rolling the idea along in her head she smiles a bit though.]
That does sound nice though. It must instill a great deal of comradery. I do try to eat in the mess hall with my unit now and then but they get particular about nobles and ranks and whatnot.
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[ He's more thoughtful than judgemental. ]
I suppose it comes from our history. Faerghus is poor in agriculture and so everyone must work together or starve...
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[She doesn't sound particularly pleased by that of course. It's just a fact unfortunately.]
I was simply pleased to be in school to be honest. [She huffs out gently as she thinks back, smile light.] Having so many people around me was almost dizzying after living with just my grandfather for so long.
[Alice hadn't known what to make of the term 'hotpot' but once they make it to where a majority of the children and smells are coming from her brows perk up and she looks damn near gleeful.]
Oh, it's communal dining!
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[ His smile broadens in response to her gleeful surprise. ]
You've never done communal dining before? Or is it simply a rarity for you? It's fascinating to me to learn about all of these differences.
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cw: suicidal ideation
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cw: suicidal ideation
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