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Let's do the Test Drive Again
I. BEARING FRUIT (NEW CHARACTERS ONLY)
It starts out as a pleasant dream. You’re in your favorite place, with your favorite people. It’s a moment of idyllic comfort.
And then, it goes wrong.
The sky turns dark above, and as you look up, you see the black expanse of space spotted with faraway pinprick lights of stars. Yet, they’re not stars. You’re certain. They’re watching you. A billion eyes all looking down, and they spill forth as if sky itself was a dam holding back those dark waters. You reach back to the people you’re with, but they’re frozen in place. Their eyes are black, reflecting only the expanse of dark eyes.
So you run, even though you know you won’t escape it. You glance back and see it not overtaking, but consuming. The landscape around you is being devoured, and you can see it cracking apart. The world itself is breaking, and it cracks under your feet. You fall, and the billion eyes chase after you until the darkness swallows you whole. There’s agony as if you’re being ripped apart, and then—
You cannot see. You cannot feel. You simply are. Yet even so, impossibly, a woman’s voice speaks gently.
I’m sorry it couldn’t be saved. But, come, it’s time to wake.
You wake with a start, cradled by soft, velvety plants, and sticky with a sap that smells faintly of honey and iron. You can see the veins of the leaves that hold you, lit warmly and gently by what looks like a crystal embedded above you. Yet, it’s odd, because that crystal calls to you. When you reach out to touch it, it’s warm. Familiar. Important. You don’t know why, but you know you must hold onto this, because now it feels wrong for it to be suspended in these leaves. So, you pull it out.
The light starts to fade, but only in time to see as the leaves cradling you immediately start to soften and crumble, and with it comes a torrent of dirt. Soft, loamy soil starts to fill the space around you in the dark as you’re buried. Or, rather, you already were. You reach out through the dirt desperately, and your hands finds a root, so you pull while you clutch that precious crystal so close that it almost feels like it sinks into you (in your panic, you don’t notice that it does). You reach out again, and this time, your hand hits open air and plenty of sturdy roots around to grab.
From a seed you’re born, and like a sprout, you make your way out of the ground.
And once you’ve clawed your way out of the soft earth and the roots, nearby, you see the soil shift. Another hand comes up to grasp desperately for something, anything, just as you had been.
And then, it goes wrong.
The sky turns dark above, and as you look up, you see the black expanse of space spotted with faraway pinprick lights of stars. Yet, they’re not stars. You’re certain. They’re watching you. A billion eyes all looking down, and they spill forth as if sky itself was a dam holding back those dark waters. You reach back to the people you’re with, but they’re frozen in place. Their eyes are black, reflecting only the expanse of dark eyes.
So you run, even though you know you won’t escape it. You glance back and see it not overtaking, but consuming. The landscape around you is being devoured, and you can see it cracking apart. The world itself is breaking, and it cracks under your feet. You fall, and the billion eyes chase after you until the darkness swallows you whole. There’s agony as if you’re being ripped apart, and then—
You cannot see. You cannot feel. You simply are. Yet even so, impossibly, a woman’s voice speaks gently.
I’m sorry it couldn’t be saved. But, come, it’s time to wake.
You wake with a start, cradled by soft, velvety plants, and sticky with a sap that smells faintly of honey and iron. You can see the veins of the leaves that hold you, lit warmly and gently by what looks like a crystal embedded above you. Yet, it’s odd, because that crystal calls to you. When you reach out to touch it, it’s warm. Familiar. Important. You don’t know why, but you know you must hold onto this, because now it feels wrong for it to be suspended in these leaves. So, you pull it out.
The light starts to fade, but only in time to see as the leaves cradling you immediately start to soften and crumble, and with it comes a torrent of dirt. Soft, loamy soil starts to fill the space around you in the dark as you’re buried. Or, rather, you already were. You reach out through the dirt desperately, and your hands finds a root, so you pull while you clutch that precious crystal so close that it almost feels like it sinks into you (in your panic, you don’t notice that it does). You reach out again, and this time, your hand hits open air and plenty of sturdy roots around to grab.
From a seed you’re born, and like a sprout, you make your way out of the ground.
And once you’ve clawed your way out of the soft earth and the roots, nearby, you see the soil shift. Another hand comes up to grasp desperately for something, anything, just as you had been.
II. BOUGH-BREAKER, ROOT-QUAKER
There are new Shard-Bearers at the Tree of Life, and Yima has asked that their elders return to the Tree to greet them, to bring them forth and answer their questions. She warns that it will be unlike the last time, for the Dryad's presence has gone -- the root-caverns of the Tree are damaged, the previous actions of some of the Shard-Bearers have left it injured, blackened by ill intent. Be careful, Commune where you must, but be aware that the Tree has reacted to its injury and will seek out the space within your Communions to make its agonies known.
All will experience the consequences to the actions of the few.
Whether awakening within or descending once more into the cavernous, root layer of the Tree of life is precarious; passages are maze-like, with claustrophobic squeezes and sudden chasms. Worse yet, is the miasma that hovers in the atmosphere. It leaches into your eyes, your skin, the space below your fingernails and drags through your lungs with every inhalation. Images of explosions, of fire and the sensation of shrapnel tearing through you begin to spark like fireworks within your mind. The pain builds, souring as it does.
The ambiance here is revolting. Great chasms have opened in the environment, threatening to pour inattentive Shard-Bearers into the Tree's deeper underbelly. The cloying, dark vapors around everyone dull the senses, until those you may have entered with are gone, or perhaps new bodies have joined you in the rancid space. The miasma urges you towards your baser desires, your desperate violence, and even as the Tree's pain evokes a sense of desperate self-defense, your Shard warms upon your body.
Somehow, the Tree still seeks to Commune with all -- pressing its need upon you: a single flame. A roaring pyre. A chilled ember.
All will experience the consequences to the actions of the few.
Whether awakening within or descending once more into the cavernous, root layer of the Tree of life is precarious; passages are maze-like, with claustrophobic squeezes and sudden chasms. Worse yet, is the miasma that hovers in the atmosphere. It leaches into your eyes, your skin, the space below your fingernails and drags through your lungs with every inhalation. Images of explosions, of fire and the sensation of shrapnel tearing through you begin to spark like fireworks within your mind. The pain builds, souring as it does.
The ambiance here is revolting. Great chasms have opened in the environment, threatening to pour inattentive Shard-Bearers into the Tree's deeper underbelly. The cloying, dark vapors around everyone dull the senses, until those you may have entered with are gone, or perhaps new bodies have joined you in the rancid space. The miasma urges you towards your baser desires, your desperate violence, and even as the Tree's pain evokes a sense of desperate self-defense, your Shard warms upon your body.
Somehow, the Tree still seeks to Commune with all -- pressing its need upon you: a single flame. A roaring pyre. A chilled ember.
THE GAME IS AFOOT
The Tree of Life cannot communicate but in abstract images and sounds, but the general gist of its need is eventually grasped by all Shard-Bearers: the miasma present is the result of an attack upon the Dryad that once lived among the roots of the Tree. Actions taken by other Shard-Bearers have left the Tree in dire straits, deeply wounded and unable to prevent itself from naturally lashing out in its own defense as it dies. It cannot let go of those it has imprisoned, until they have revealed their nature to it - until it knows it can finally, finally let go.
Characters can decide amongst themselves how to deal with the threat of miasma. It's easy to figure out, as your shards will naturally want to absorb what's similar to discord within your shards, but just like with discord, holding hands, or joining together in some way will allow the pain to be shared amongst everyone in the group. There's no such thing as failure, but if a character decides for the group, there may be the opportunity for intervention…
Characters can decide amongst themselves how to deal with the threat of miasma. It's easy to figure out, as your shards will naturally want to absorb what's similar to discord within your shards, but just like with discord, holding hands, or joining together in some way will allow the pain to be shared amongst everyone in the group. There's no such thing as failure, but if a character decides for the group, there may be the opportunity for intervention…
- Characters may choose to take on the role of a martyr, accepting the Tree's miasma ( its pain ) upon themselves as the sole sufferant. They will experience excruciating pain and lasting effects, but will spare others from this trauma.
- Characters may also choose to share the pain among themselves, though doing so will require Communion to be shared between all parties -- this will result in the temporary collapse of boundaries and barricades, and emotions and memories may flow against their will into others.
- Characters may also decide to do nothing at all, whereupon their decision to take no action will result in the miasma growing stronger, denser and more cloying until they are rendered unconscious and ejected from the roots of the tree.
- Have you a choice unique to your character that wasn't mentioned? Might you try to heal the tree's pain, or perhaps harm it further? If you're making the attempt, make sure your group is aware and submit your record of action to the link included below!
III. TWO CITIES, ALIKE IN DIGNITY BUT WE ALL KNOW YIMOMMY'S WHERE IT'S AT
Having just celebrated the dual-natured festivities known as the Year's End Festival and Qiasu, Springstar and Highstorm ( respectively ) are wrapping up the period of time where Kenos a celebrates unity and togetherness, coming together with friends and family, to be kind to others and share in one’s wealth - whether that comes in the form of knowledge, monetary gains, or the exchange of gifts and one’s time. While the core festivities are over, many of the residents of Kenos are still caught up in the celebratory mood; those who are not, have begun to fret and whisper about a rumor that has spread throughout both cities.
( Many more residents are attempting to get rid of their excess stock, and may attempt to pawn off kitschy goods and, strangely, unclaimed gifts for people they claim they have no memory of, or simply do not exist. )
With the new Shard-Bearers present or en route, it is Kathova and Cetina that approach the established ones, requesting that they form mentorships with the new souls to assist them with the integration process. To this end, they have both provided a centralized zone in both Highstorm and Springstar for a small, casual meet-and-greet to be held before the new Shard-Bearers are unleashed upon Kenos as a whole.
Additionally, as Springstar and Highstorm are holding their events on different days, it is possible for the knowledge-hungry to participate in both informational sessions -- the tones and opinions held by both cities are doubtless to differ, and some Shard-Bearers who have chosen to harmonize with either faction may even find their way to the opposing faction's session as well. After all, the year's end is still lingering in the air, and cooperation is the current name of the game.
( Many more residents are attempting to get rid of their excess stock, and may attempt to pawn off kitschy goods and, strangely, unclaimed gifts for people they claim they have no memory of, or simply do not exist. )
With the new Shard-Bearers present or en route, it is Kathova and Cetina that approach the established ones, requesting that they form mentorships with the new souls to assist them with the integration process. To this end, they have both provided a centralized zone in both Highstorm and Springstar for a small, casual meet-and-greet to be held before the new Shard-Bearers are unleashed upon Kenos as a whole.
Additionally, as Springstar and Highstorm are holding their events on different days, it is possible for the knowledge-hungry to participate in both informational sessions -- the tones and opinions held by both cities are doubtless to differ, and some Shard-Bearers who have chosen to harmonize with either faction may even find their way to the opposing faction's session as well. After all, the year's end is still lingering in the air, and cooperation is the current name of the game.
SPRINGSTAR, αιώνιος ήλιος
In Springstar, the seat of the Tribune becomes available for such a forum. While a section of the building itself has been reserved for the meeting between fresh faces and experienced Shard-Bearers alike, the hustle and bustle of Heliopolis continues around them -- acolytes still gather their robes and tomes, hurrying from their quarters to lessons. A score of young militants march in step across the yard to the training grounds.
Tables draped in white-and-gold-trimmed fabrics fare filled with fare common to Springstar's warmer climate -- fruits and wines, savory smoked meats and roasted vegetables, a series of meze platters and souvlaki skewers have been lain out to encourage forum participants to snack as they speak. The atmosphere is light, ambient with informality and friendliness, though topics will inevitably stray towards philosophic, Springstar's meeting grounds are decorated with handsome chaise lounges and slouching klismos chairs in small, intimate groupings.
Tables draped in white-and-gold-trimmed fabrics fare filled with fare common to Springstar's warmer climate -- fruits and wines, savory smoked meats and roasted vegetables, a series of meze platters and souvlaki skewers have been lain out to encourage forum participants to snack as they speak. The atmosphere is light, ambient with informality and friendliness, though topics will inevitably stray towards philosophic, Springstar's meeting grounds are decorated with handsome chaise lounges and slouching klismos chairs in small, intimate groupings.
HIGHSTORM, луны-близнецы
Eternally in opposition, Highstorm provides the Manor's courtyard as the setting for their informational meeting. Here, formality is of utmost importance, with attending Zenith loyalists and residents dressed in beautiful, albeit austere attire -- they are, after all, standing before Lady Yima's home. A buffet-style luncheon is spread alongside one of the largest reflecting pools, wherein you may gaze and find your memories revealed in retrospect upon the water's surface.
There are few places to be seated in the Manor's courtyard, resulting in a milling of bodies as they flow and ebb between smaller gatherings, clustering in small-to-large groups with small platters and shimmering flutes of drink held in their hands.
There are few places to be seated in the Manor's courtyard, resulting in a milling of bodies as they flow and ebb between smaller gatherings, clustering in small-to-large groups with small platters and shimmering flutes of drink held in their hands.
RUMOR MILL
In both locations information passes between all in a forum, spread and disseminated among the masses - it's a good opportunity for city residents, faction loyalists and interested new parties to share and share alike. Once the meet-and-greet has concluded, twin missives from both of the faction leads are read out -- invitations for all present to explore the cities to their heart's content, and warnings about stumbling ill-prepared ( or at all ) into the Below, or worse yet, the Beyond.
No matter how conversations between player characters go, everyone will walk away with the following knowledge to ensure new players do not feel "behind" in terms of what has previously happened on Kenos TV.
No matter how conversations between player characters go, everyone will walk away with the following knowledge to ensure new players do not feel "behind" in terms of what has previously happened on Kenos TV.
- Cyrus, the head of the Meridian faction is a native aristocrat of Springstar, who provides characters with an iliachtida, or sunbeam. This item tethers a character to their world, ensuring it does not fully disappear. His stance involves the idea that, using Meridian's light, worlds can be restored and you may return home.
- In contrast, the head of the Zenith faction is Yima, who has been the head of Highstorm since - arguably - its inception. She provides characters with a Shard of that they love most, to protect and hold. Yima believes former worlds to be lost, and looks to the future instead.
- While Harmonization occurs as the characters' Shard ( literally the manifestation of a character's soul! ) accrues the natural energies generated by Meridian or Zenith, Discord is also as natural an occurrence -- a symptom, in fact, of that process. Discord is best reduced by someone from the opposite faction, and is also influenced by the Aspect of one's character.
Cyrus likes enchiladas.- Many individuals recommend the following locations to new arrivals, as a means of enjoyment, involvement or further information-seeking: Highstorm's Court at Yima's Manor remains a great area for reflection and self-discovery, while the Tomes - a series of libraries - possess a magnitude of amassed knowledge, both foreign and relative to yourself. Heliopolis, the capital of Springstar, is the core of government and administration, and houses many avenues towards involvement in the goings-on of the city. Likewise, the Psychagogía District is the beating heart of entertainment within an island known for its passions.
- Rumors of past exploits linger on the lips of many. Did you know that one of Meridian's Harmonized slew one of Zenith's before the eyes of countless bystanders? That there was an expedition of Meri and Zenite Shard-Bearers dispatched to Alenroux, and some came back brutalized! Did you hear that the Shard of a Zenite is being held hostage by the Meridians?
- The new marking that has appeared upon your character's body is known as their sign of Aspect, and supposedly correlates to the fundamental truths of their soul. A Shard also exists, and is known as the characters' soul itself.
NOTES
crona | soul eater
ii
[ His tone is neither harsh nor coddling. It sounds more like he is answering on the state of the weather. But Flamebringer pauses to look at them -- he tilts his head as he acknowledges the lost expression on their face. Indeed, how does one fully process the loss of one's whole world? Of everyone they ever knew or could know? ]
There's no good way to move forward, but one step is enough. Though, you'll have to figure out what that step is for yourself. [ It is as sympathetic as he can sound. He has felt something similar to this -- on a smaller scale. He felt "his world" end and came out a different person.
But to a young sapling that isn't sure how to grow, he supposes he could say something a little more encouraging. Or else they might end up growing crooked and wrong. ]
Have you thought of it, yet?
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About what the truth is...?
[ Their voice is quiet, but firmer than it had been a moment ago - their eyes dart to the intersection of grout between all the fine stones that make up the floor of this garden, still avoiding looking directly at their companion. Some tension comes out of their shoulders, as if resigning to the very topic at hand. ]
I don't know... I think... I think what they're saying, it's possible.
[ Obliterating the planet and the people in it had always been theoretically possible in their world - there were people in their immediate network of relationships that had either the capability or the wish to do so. Perhaps that's what makes the Zenites' opinions easier for them to believe. ]
You felt it, didn't you? In that dream.
[ That feeling of everything going to black, everything being destroyed. The image is still fresh in their mind. ]
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It's only natural to want to act out in this situation. Yet so few people are; he supposes because it feels like it would be too detrimental to themselves if they did. People would view them as "problems" and future cooperation would be difficult. His eyes close as he recognizes the thought and reason behind that, but ...
Children shouldn't have to be so logical, too.
Still, he doesn't look disappointed in them for their response. He pauses as he is asked about the dream and gives a small nod. ]
Yeah. But it's more than that... for me, I could feel it. The connection that I had with people were abruptly cut off. It was the sensation of them dying that let me know this is true. [ Indeed, no reason to sugarcoat things. If he were a kinder person, he might have said that they were free to throw a tantrum, but he doesn't know how to put his words into a gentle way. ]
You're quite the obedient kid, aren't you?
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And, just as he says, they're the obedient, compliant sort - mostly unwilling to challenge or question the viewpoints of others. If this man believes it to be true, then it stands to reason that it could be. Probably is. His assessment of them catches them more off guard than the confident assertion that the world is dead, and it shows on their face, a muted, brief surprise in a lift of their eyebrows, as they raise their head to look at him for the first time.
...But ultimately, they can't maintain it, looking at him, so they avert their eyes again, looking instead to the crowd. ]
I suppose so...
[ Though, they feel vaguely sick to their stomach when they admit to it. One gets the sense they don't view being quite so obedient as a good thing. More than a handful of times have they felt ashamed of just doing what they're told - and they wonder, selfishly, if the person before them has a bad impression of them already. ]
I'm just trying to accept it. It won't change anything, will it...? If I say it isn't true, if I deny what you saw...
[ So what would be the point in making a scene? It would be futile. They sound defeated, yes, but they can keep that feeling contained out of learned habit, at least for the time being. Their brows furrow deeper. ]
Are you... you're not bothered?
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iii
Hey. You got that shit in there under control, right?
[He pointedly taps his finger against his temple. Somehow he makes that question sound like a threat accidentally, the tone too accusatory.]
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In an instant, they're scrambling to put their back to the wall instead, facing him, even if they're still curled up on the ground. ]
Y...Yes?
[ They force themselves to say, although they sound guilty when they say it, as if confessing to a crime— moreover, they're so uncertain what his intentions are, that they accidentally inflect their answer like a question. Their following words don't sound terribly convincing, either, when uttered with such a nervous, rambling quality. ]
I'm used to it, so... I at least know how to do deal with this. Er, with him, I mean...
[ Ragnarok's presence is perhaps the one thing they do know how to deal with, especially when he's in such a weakened state. There's no point in denying the truth of there being shit in there, as the other so aptly put it, is there? Something about the way the man talks, the way he'd phrased the question, gives them the impression that he already has more of a grasp on what's going on with them than someone normally might. Whether that has to do just with getting a peek at their shards, or if there's more to it than that remains to be seen, so they keep themself from assuming too much. Instead, they briefly glance upward to read the man's expression in desperate hopes of seeing acceptance of their answer, and not further scrutiny. ]
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Used to it doesn't mean you're in control.
[His voice doesn't soften so much as just become a little less terse. He doesn't approach, keeping his distance and giving them an opening to run if desired; he's aware he's kind of off-putting, to put it mildly. Not good at this kind of thing, commiseration, his comments are still direct and to the point, and his attempt at reassurance is stated too perfunctorily.]
I'm not gonna hurt you. So, what happens if you lose it? Mine's gonna kill people.
[Really, he's just looking out for the populace here, under the assumption there's another person like him around, which is never good.]
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Um, he can't do anything like that... not on his own. [ They're sure if the other being inside their head had the capability to control their body and make them kill others, he would've started doing so years ago, so that's the first reassurance they offer. Their gaze doesn't lift from the floor as they utter it, but on this matter, they seem surer of themself than they had previously. ] If he gets out of hand, I'm usually the only one who gets hit.
[ There's an exhausted tinge to their words, below the meekness of their response - like the hits in question are more tiring than actually threatening. ]
He's not... [ They stumble over their words, shaking their head. ] W-Well, do you have to hold "it" back all the time?
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iii
This one was talking -- to someone? some thing? She'd thought they were talking to themselves, but... We ?
As she approached, her eyes caught sight of the glint around the back of their neck, and now that, that piqued her curiosity as well. She slid closer, tall and imposing, and dressed to what could reasonably called "the nines" by a normal person, but she wore it as comfortably as a pair of slacks, before she piped up, to address them. ]
You could, but hiding won't last for long. It's a... reasonable thing, to question who's telling the truth. There's, unfortunately, no way to tell. Yet.
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...What do you mean by "won't last for long...?"
[ They question, after a moment to collect themself. Are... are people going to come looking for them, if they stay out of this whole mess? It sounds horrible. That there's no way to tell the truth yet takes a momentary backseat to the more pressing issue that there's no way to fully escape the predicament they've all been thrust into — they want to know, first and foremost, if their hand will be forced in this conflict. ]
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[ She asked, her tone not sharp, but... there's an iron in her voice. Those who hid from war... who fought so hard to pretend that a war would not touch their land, and they would be the special individuals who were immune to the attentions of the powers that wreaked havoc on any land. If it was so important for Evil to join in, shouldn't others? But, alas, that was a world away, a place long gone now, but the sentiment still held, knowing that the forces that would bear down on them will not let any remain idle. ]
In the end, if we all fail, we're all... gone. To nothingness. It does not matter if we fight, or we do not, but what we will stand against will come for each and every one of us, if we do not fight.
I don't know about you, but, I would hardly take such a thing sitting down. It would be an insult.
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[ The Zenites, maybe? This is Springstar, after all, and the woman's attitude has to be the stark opposite of the calm, accepting, almost melancholy nature of those they've met and observed in Highstorm. If this woman believes in the Meridian's message, then it stands to reason that the Zenites would have to... destroy everything, in order to bring about their "new world." It'd paint the nature of that sect in a much more sinister, cruel light.
But up until this point, they've found themself getting more and more convinced of their world being gone. They're the pessimistic, gloomy sort, susceptible to assuming the worst has come to pass - moreover, if they ruminate on it, their circumstances weren't exactly ones they'd long to return to. Did that mean they wanted the whole world to be destroyed? No, but it made the concept of those horrible circumstances being gone easier to swallow. It's difficult, and has always been difficult, for them to muster up the courage to feel hope. So to speak to someone who could stand against the inherent despair of the other side so strongly... she must have a reason. ]
Are you talking about the Zenites? It... it didn't seem like the people here and there were fighting, really... I just didn't want to get in the way.
[ Their desire to hide had been born more out of a simple, learned urge to avoid getting wrapped up in other people's problems— not to escape fighting with such gravity as she seems to imply. The woman said what they stand against would come for them. Are things that hostile? Or is there some other threat they have yet to even learn about? It sounds so grave, when she says it - they can't help but look a little fearful. ]
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ii!
After another beat of silence, he simply asks:]
How do you feel about that possibility?
[There's no trick to it, really. He seems to be asking out of nothing more than genuine interest and curiosity, like he himself has no answer and wants to see what others might come up with.]
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... I don't know why I'm the one who's left, if it's true.
[ That's the root of their feeling— a sense of confusion. Of all people in the world, they can't fathom why they're the one person who's been brought to this place. Their words lack a true sense of self-deprecation, though, ringing closer to matter-of-factness, like their dearth of suitability for being here is an objective truth. ]
There were people other than me who could have been saved.
[ Stronger, smarter, kinder people. Could it be that they were all pulled by random chance here, that Yima had picked them by fate? Or was there some specific reason the souls that are here were plucked from "Oblivion?" They shift awkwardly, running a hand up their sleeve. ]
... Because of that, I don't want it to be true.
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Maybe there's something like empathy, then, in the pulse of uncatagorizeable emotion that follows. Matsui's still new to dealing with feelings at all, so he lets them come and go without scrutinizing them.]
It is a difficult thing.
[Not knowing why they're the one left? Not wanting something to be true, even though it seems quite plausible? Matsui doesn't seem inclined to expand any further on the simple statement, watching for another few moments after they've spoken.]
If you don't want it to be true, do you find yourself leaning toward what the Meridians believe, then?
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ii.
[ if it sounds harsh, asriel's tone does nothing to soften it. he isn't one for sentimentality and lacks the patience to entertain it in others.
he's kept to the edges himself because he's here to listen and observe. it's a confirmation of sorts because he didn't exactly expect to be amazed by any progressive thinking. no point in reinventing the wheel when the tried and true methods of control have worked since forever.
the snow leopard sitting calmly at his side is the softer presence between them. she has a knowing look in her vivid green eyes and seems almost sympathetic. she is the best part of him, after all, even if the man himself would deny all of it. ]
The people who claim to have orchestrated our being here also conveniently control the narrative. More investigation is required.
[ it's not so much that he must be right — even if he's confident that he is — it's thinking for one's self that he considers important. ]
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Control the narrative... then, they would need to control that vision we all had, too.
[ Of their worlds and people being destroyed, devoured. Watched, by thousands of eyes. The idea of a mass hallucination like that being created and then executed onto others isn't much farther than a stone skip away from the capabilities of some in their home world from their perspective, so they accept it as a theoretical possibility. Not that they're confident enough to accuse those in Zenith on grounds of it being technically plausible. ]
Something about it wasn't convincing to you?
never got a notif for this i'm so sorry!!
[ he recalls with particular clarity the insistent feeling that he should believe everything. to accept and trust what he was being told. it's more than a little unsettling when so much seems out of everyone's control.
the snow leopard keeps watching right back, and asriel is well aware of how she seems to be a cause of added wariness. sometimes he's willing to let people squirm, but since he's butt in here in the first place, he decides to be generous this time. ]
You have nothing to fear from Stelmaria. She and I are one and the same, and you and I are merely having a discussion.
[ nothing worth fighting over, that is. ]
no worries at all!!
ii!!
Can't be.
[ David only spares a glance down at Crona, sees the crown of heir head and how it's angled down at their shoes. He'd been lingering in the back, the same way they have. Listening, but never offering anything more than a nod or a pointed glance of his eyes. He knew someone was beside him, but he never bothered to look. And man, they look small. Young. Afraid. How old are they, even? ]
How would they know? They've never been to our worlds.
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They had to bring us here somehow...
[ The fact remains that they're all from different dimensions, or something like that, and they're all miraculously, physically here. So there must be some truth in them having a connection to all their worlds. Crona says it more to float the possibility towards him, to point out the possibility of their knowledge, rather than out of a true wish to start an argument. ]
So they must have seen them all, at some point.
[ whether they were actually destroyed... that's another issue entirely. ]
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With what tech?
[ He replies, arms crossed. ]
You'd have to have some sort of genius to develop something like that. And then not do anything? Just.. Look? [ He breathes evenly, thinking. ] I mean, we [ His world, he means. ] had travel to the moon. Colonies. That's as far as we got..
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iii
he was actually on his way out, as he'd quickly realized that he'd had enough of both the workplace-party-esque socializing and watching everyone else run around while he's still stuck in his wheelchair; Crona only happens to catch his eye due to their corner-dwelling demeanor, which is unfortunately somewhat familiar to him at this point. Once again, he finds himself feeling sorry for what he perceives as a scared teenager, so, after a moment, he sighs and approaches. The two shards go unnoticed, as does their apparent conversation with themself, at least until he gets closer. Then he wonders if he's made a mistake. ]
... Hey. You okay over there?
[ gyro would kick his ass for talking to someone who's obviously going to be trouble, but he's here and gyro isn't, so. ]
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What they're expecting is some creeped out comment or to be berated for being strange and talking to themself... not to be asked if they're okay. Once the initial surprise of being spoken to wears off, they shift to face the man who had reached out to them, blinking once or twice in moderate confusion before stiffening up, raising their hands as if to prove their innocence. ]
It... it's nothing! This is... [ THEY CAN'T THINK OF A GOOD EXCUSE/EXPLANATION ] ...please don't be suspicious.
[ There's a slight desperation there, like they need to convince this guy that they're not up to no good. ]
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Despite their request, when he raises an eyebrow, it's a little suspicious nonetheless. ]
I'm not... [ much. ] You one of the people who just showed up?
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