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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.
ehehehehe
Reminds me of when I was a kid. [ He says, with all honesty. ]
I would prefer not to climb, so I suppose trying the front door works as well. What is it they used to say...
[ A hand rose to drift across his lips, as he started to walk through the door. ]
Ah yes, Crimes of Opportunity were the ones they had to guard against. An unlocked door is certainly one of them.
[ Oddly, or perhaps not so oddly, Silco has no trouble pushing against the door, and it begins to move. ]
Hm, and this certainly is one, isn't it?
no subject
[Mmm, a little jab even as she grins at him. But just a little, because Chloe sure as hell doesn’t want to do any climbing here either. Part of why the front door is so appealing—it’s so much easier.
So easy, in fact, that they open without much resistance. Chloe follows along behind him, exhaling a breath of a laugh at how effortless a first step they’ve been given. See, don’t even need the ‘breaking’ part of ‘breaking and entering.’ They’re totally in the clear here.]
Man, they’re just begging us to come in and take a look around like that. You’d think the rich would learn to lock their doors…
[And what awaits them inside certainly lives up to hype of the exterior. Past a lush little foyer lies an open hall with an incredibly tall and intricate crystalline statue surrounded by a grand, spiraling staircase and lush dark-colored rugs and paintings lining the walls.]
Sorry, let me be more accurate—rich as fuck.
[With any luck, the only climbing they’ll have to do is up these stairs.]
no subject
You know, when I was a boy I could have scaled something like this like it was nothing.
[ He says, while he pushes, the door opening the rest of the way. ] So yes, when I was young, and spry.
[ And not severely lung damaged from forty-plus years living in the polluted cesspit that was the Undercity. ]
Thankfully, something else I learned in those days, is that the rich only lock their doors when they see us coming. Otherwise, they want to live in the illusion that they are untouchable.
I've never seen anyone delude themselves like the wealthy do.
[ Says Silco. A Hypocrite.
His hands on his hips he looks up at the stairs. ]
You would think they would have elevators.
[ He starts climbing. Who knew fighting to kill worlds would bring out Silco's sassy side? ]
no subject
At the very least, he’s got the right attitude for it. His assessment of the wealthy sounds spot on as far as she’s concerned, so sure. She can get on board with that. She eyes that enormous crystalline sculpture in the center of the room as the two of them take to the stairs. Sure, there’s some beauty in it, but like… in a tacky sort of way.]
Guess they thought it would ruin the ‘old-timey castle’ vibe.
[If there’s one thing she wouldn’t put past the kind of person to live in a huge castle, it’s caring more about aesthetics than practicality.]
Or they spend so little time here that they couldn’t give less of a shit how much of a pain it is to get around. [A vacation home castle? It sounds kind of stupid, but what does she know? She’s not one of the untouchable rich.] Imagine our luck if that were true.
no subject
To be fair, growing up as he did, it is easy to see why he wouldn't like displays like this. Everything should serve a purpose, as far as he was concerned. Artwork to either intimidate or show the topsiders that one is just like them, when it is displayed as simply that — a display — part of him wants to just tip it over, just anger them further.
Maybe later, on the way out. ]
Mm, I'm afraid you've come with me. My luck has never been that good.
[ Though, as he starts up the next flight of stairs, it is probably also his bad luck that means they have a long way to go. ]
Thankfully, by this point, if the lord of the castle is some... [ A snort, repeating what he'd heard around the area: ] Vampire lord, I have some experience with them.
[ "Some Experience" meaning: well. He is one. ]
no subject
[Surprisingly like, in a good way though. Because look, if she’s gonna go breaking into a castle and potentially square up with a freaking vampire, it’s best to do it with someone who knows what they’re doing in both aspects of it, right?
She could do without the terrible luck, though; her own is shit enough as it is that doubling down can’t spell out anything good.]
I almost kinda hope he is home. I mean, it’d be kinda badass to outplay some full-of-himself vampire.
[Surely not words she will possibly come to regret!
First they have to get over this first obstacle anyway: endless stairs. She keeps pace on the path up, gaze locked ahead of them… and she eventually squints, as she could have sworn she just saw something move up there at the next flight.]
no subject
I think whatever lord we find here, he will be very annoyed to find us not-so easy prey. Blow to the ego, if you ask me.
[ Well, one of them wasn't really prey at all. Silco was somewhat banking on the surprise, though it could be that the vampire lord would be able to take one look at him and recognize their shared... well. Status.
Perhaps not, however. D had not seemed to pick up on it until he had revealed it, the same with many Zenites who had been subjected to it. Silco was, after all, secretive, unless it came to power. Then he crowed, because he was the type to do so. ]
Let's —
[ Shen she squinted, he followed her gaze, looking upward. He shifted, and then placed a finger to his lips, before he started to creep forward. Two steps in, he vanished from thin air, and started up the stairs. Chloe would probably see it once it peered over the stairway. A creature that looked like some kind of human-bat hybrid peered over the stairs, before it started to scuttle toward Chloe.
A knife appeared in its back before it made it down a flight, severing the skull from the spine, and Silco reappeared. ]
I doubt that will be the last of them on our way up.
no subject
With a frown, she slows down as Silco indicates silence and then up and vanishes. The moment that creature starts scuttling down towards her, she freezes. Her own knife goes forgotten in the heat of the moment, and instead she makes a grab for whatever is nearest—a fancy crystaline vase filled to the brim with roses tucked into an alcove. The thing gets launched at the monster in the same instant Silco’s knife finds its mark.]
Jesus christ!
[The body of the beast falls limply down the last few steps and Chloe’s scrambling back away from it. Okay, so these were the fucked up bat-monster vampires and not the cringey romance novel kind, got it.
She glances from the creature to the now-reappeared Silco. Yeah, alright she needs to hit up the tattoo chick about what she’d promised her as soon as this nonsense is all over. Invisibility is way too useful.]
Playing exterminator here better be worth it…
[Valiantly pretending she doesn’t sound a little bit shaky as she steps around the hybrid thing as she gets moving again.]
no subject
I suspect, with security as tight as it is, it should be something important. Hopefully something to rocket this world's destruction, I think.
[ He hopes so, anyway. As they start moving, Silco keeps his voice low, but continues on. ]
It is difficult to arrive in a place like Kenos with nothing. Many here have powers, or abilities. It can make the adjustment to such fights... complicated. When one is used to a knife, or a pistol, to suddenly be confronted with powers that can stop you in your tracks, or rip you apart at the seams...
[ He shook his head. ] Learning to accept this new reality is more difficult than accepting that our worlds are gone, I fear.
[ Honestly? This might actually be advice, in its own, weirdly roundabout way. ]