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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
[ 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.
no subject
[ Dimitri flashes her a little grin. ]
It might be educational.
1/2
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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!]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
[ He's not judging her, he's just... coming from a very different perspective. ]
no subject
[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.
no subject
[ 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...
no subject
[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!
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
No, never. I've always had my plates prepared for me. Or lunch lines in the mess hall but even those are dished out for you.
[Upper officers eat together. Lower officers are given rationed tins and left to their own devices to fix it. Even out in the field her status as a noble means she gets the better rations, more cooked foods as opposed to warming things over fires and the like.
That said by the way her tail swishes and twitches she's alert and enjoying herself mightily.]
It is exciting, isn't it. I've always enjoyed learning about other cultures. My grandfather was an avid storyteller about his days in the war and everywhere he had been.
no subject
[ He means that quite sincerely, as well. ]
I've always found different people interesting myself. But Fodlan has tended to be rather insular, unfortunately. Even when it comes to our immediate neighbors... something I'd like to change at some point.
no subject
[She sighs a little thinking on her own world a moment.]
Not that attempts at such understanding or peace are in vain of course. Progress is not a thing built in days or months or even years.
[She's preaching to the choir here of course.]
no subject
[ He really does deeply believe this. Even if it takes a long, long time. ]
It's worth doing, even if you don't live to see the end of it.
no subject
I believe you and I can agree on a great many things, Dimitri. That is certainly one of them. There are a lot of things neither of us will never live to see I imagine but that certainly doesn't mean we stop living.
no subject
no subject
I suppose it could be hard to do, yes. I've never thought of it that way before myself.
cw: suicidal ideation
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cw: suicidal ideation
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