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Let's do the Test Drive Again
I. BEARING FRUIT (NEW CHARACTERS ONLY)
It starts out as a pleasant dream. Youāre in your favorite place, with your favorite people. Itās 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, theyāre not stars. Youāre certain. Theyāre 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 youāre with, but theyāre frozen in place. Their eyes are black, reflecting only the expanse of dark eyes.
So you run, even though you know you wonāt 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. Thereās agony as if youāre being ripped apart, and thenā
You cannot see. You cannot feel. You simply are. Yet even so, impossibly, a womanās voice speaks gently.
Iām sorry it couldnāt be saved. But, come, itās 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, itās odd, because that crystal calls to you. When you reach out to touch it, itās warm. Familiar. Important. You donāt 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 youāre 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 donāt 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 youāre born, and like a sprout, you make your way out of the ground.
And once youāve 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, theyāre not stars. Youāre certain. Theyāre 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 youāre with, but theyāre frozen in place. Their eyes are black, reflecting only the expanse of dark eyes.
So you run, even though you know you wonāt 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. Thereās agony as if youāre being ripped apart, and thenā
You cannot see. You cannot feel. You simply are. Yet even so, impossibly, a womanās voice speaks gently.
Iām sorry it couldnāt be saved. But, come, itās 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, itās odd, because that crystal calls to you. When you reach out to touch it, itās warm. Familiar. Important. You donāt 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 youāre 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 donāt 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 youāre born, and like a sprout, you make your way out of the ground.
And once youāve 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 interventionā¦
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 interventionā¦
- 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 oneās wealth - whether that comes in the form of knowledge, monetary gains, or the exchange of gifts and oneās 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, Ī±Ī¹ĻĪ½Ī¹ĪæĻ Ī®Ī»Ī¹ĪæĻ
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, Š»ŃŠ½Ń-Š±Š»ŠøŠ·Š½ŠµŃŃ
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 PsychagogĆa 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
3 (early on)
He almost left this rooftop, but he can't help the curiosity.
Silco is a user of people, after all, and what better way to use people, than learn things about them?
He stepped closer, dressed from neck to toe in fine clothing and a large, oversized coat with a large popped collar. The gloves on his hands, of course, conceal more than just his hands. Like his demon contract mark, very important to keep hidden. ]
You look rather intent. Searching for something?
no subject
But right now... He does not have the mind to pursue those mysteries. He is looking for one person, just one Soul in this sea, and yet no matter where he looks, whom he asks...
There is someone who is strange enough, or brave enough, to approach him where he stands, his tall, too-thin frame bent over and looking down at the crowd passing below. Where he stands, it feels as if the world has lost all color. Neatly dressed all in black except for the pale white cravat tied beneath his "chin", his entire body seems to have been dipped in the darkest of inks, reflecting nothing and allowing not even for a hint of color in the eyes. White iris on white sclera jump sharply from the crowds to the man who approaches. Tightly gloved hands tighten on the rail.
He has asked so many times, and yet-]
I seek a lost girl, not yet seven years of age, pale of hair and skin. Do you know of such a child?
[He will not stop asking, even though the grand scale of this city makes the odds nothing like those in the Outside, in the small villages on the borders inside the Wall.]
no subject
[ Is all that Silco can say to the question. He doesn't jump at the actual full appearance of the...thing, as he's seen Sebastian's true form by now, and little can cause him to stumble, after seeing that. He blinked one eye, as he leaned against the railing instead of looked over it. There's no point to look, in his opinion, but... then again.
He understood this man's need. Probably better than some. ]
No. You'll not likely find them wandering the streets of Highstorm, either. [ He said, and it's both realistic, and said with a little vindictive twist of the knife, to transfer his own anger and pain onto someone else. That someone else would be looking for someone important... Silco feels the need for others to share in that anger and pain, even if he won't speak of it. He tipped his head, outward beyond the city, in the vaguest of directions toward the tree. ]
Either she will show up at the tree, or you should speak to Yima. [ He said, frankly. ] If she is not here, you will have her close in... [ Hands spread now, gesturing. ] A different way.
[ A beat. ] For all the good it will do you.
no subject
None of them were Infected. The trees did not wear bones and tattered clothing of the people theyād once been. But perhapsā¦ if he had missed her by mere minutes, an hourā¦
He is silent, and in that silence there is not even a hint of breath.]
What do you mean, a ādifferent wayā?
[And when he does finally speak, his fingers still gripping the railing to contain the urge to touch that strange feeling in his chest, there is no sign of movement, not from a jaw or a mouth or a throat.]
no subject
He understood that desperation so well, but his tone -- barely controlled, with a tight restraint that is barely there -- slides smoothly, around a mouthful of lingering, remaining smoke. ]
You have a shard, yes? We all have one -- a crystalline version of what could reasonably called your soul. [ His own, nestled there against his collar bone, he raised a hand, to touch at it, although he didn't pull it out. He instead looked at the man -- thing? -- with a heavy look, meaningful. One eye blinked, the other didn't. ]
no subject
And he does not reach for it, but it rests still now in the hollow of his throat beneath the pale white of his cravat, a sharp, splintered hunk of matte black gem.
The problem was... did a Black Child have a soul? He had been human... but the only between them whose soul had never been in question had always been Shiva. Shiva, the one who they called Pure Soul, who was coveted for her unique existence...
He cannot say if that thing in his body had a soul inside, but-]
There is a shard. What is it you mean to say about them?
[One eye blinks at him. Neither of his blink back.]
no subject
[ Silco doesn't believe in a new world, and his tone says that, very clearly. He believes only in himself, in Zaun, and of course in a perfect shard that he kept, precious and perfect, safer than anything else he could ever keep with him. He doesn't believe in ascending further, and beyond. The world is poison and should be rend asunder because it exists without those that he cares about or likes. ]
You will get hers, I think, if you agree to work with us. You will not have to tell her, she knows who you look for, even now.
Do you not think she would have made sure you found each other, already? I suspect you would have.
no subject
This man... he has heard the talk that a woman named Yima, perhaps the woman who had come to him in the dreams he should not have, could grant wishes, or boons... but this?]
A shard?
[His voice cracks with the emotion his face does not show, straightening up suddenly from where he had leaned over the bridge to watch those below. The way the people here spoke of this woman... it was so like how the Black Children spoke of their "Mother"-]
Do you think I will mistake a hunk of rock for a child?
[- He does not understand. Not yet.]
no subject
Of course not. It is their soul, not everything of their very being, and it means they have not yet been pulled from the ether of oblivion.
[ Or returned, he thinks bitterly, and his gloved fingers tightened at his cigar, before the paper crumpled underneath it, and he relaxed his fingers, forced them relaxed.
He understood this odd man, and his eyes looked out over all the people beneath them. ]
Many here have ghosts that we yearn for, and will never see in this world. Some cling to the promise that they will be reunited in a new world. You will have to decide, if you are one such over-hopeful fool.
[ He did not believe it, not after -- ]
no subject
But it isnāt, and that ghostly gaze moves down to his own gloved hand. He lifts it and cups his fingers as if imagining a shard curled within the palm, but that-
Will he forget the sound of her laughter? The way she smiled, with jam smeared in the corners of her mouth? How she rocked back on her heels as she hummed nonsense melodies as she waited outside of his study?
It canāt be. Not like thisā¦
Time is a difficult concept for a creature that loses memories if they are not kept close, does not feel pain, touch, cold, or heat. Especially one that no longer has a young girl to care for to mark things through the hours that it no longer needs, like meals and sleep. He does not realize he has done it, but-
The creature forgets everything else around it. Mentally, it vanishes into its own mind, forgetting to be a man or to even exist at all, lost in spiraling attempts to think itself out of a reality in which that girl would be a stone.]
no subject
It is not out of kindness that he does such a thing. It would be easy to pull the man -- creature -- out of his reverie, but Silco simply puffed at his cigar, and let the weight of it, the wholeness of his loss descend upon him. He is not a kind man, he is a man who aches in a similar way to this creature. He, too, felt this loss, but it was no shock to him. He's lived through Horos and the certainty of his loss has crystalized like armor.
He's now had time, to grow to hate this. This reality.
He wondered if this man would come to do the same?
He waited, and did not speak, before he finally hit the end of his cigar, and he puffed the last smoke ring, before he tossed it off the railing and to the street below. He didn't stub it out, and it landed with a soft thip, and a scattering of ashes on the cobblestone below. ]
When you make your decision, I'm sure Yima will already have it waiting.
[ He said, simply. He would have done anything to hold his daughter in his hands, and if this man was at all concerned with who he was looking for -- a little girl -- then Silco would doubt his devotion.
Then again, it is Silco. ]
no subject
Somewhere else, it tries to understand how it had come to this. How it could have even come here. What it could mean that there are so many people in this world, of all shapes and makes. Why only he was chosen. How a world could be destroyed.
... But there are no conclusions. There are no answers. And though he grasps for them... there are no hints, either. He is adrift, and-
Someone says something. Belatedly, it finally raises it's head, eyes refocusing to find... the man from before. He was... They had been discussing the shards, of course-]
I apologize... I was thinking. What did you say?
no subject
He smiled, a curl of his lips, and a tip of his head. ]
Get a little lost with them? [ He asked, and it's easy to play off the... echo of something that he felt himself. A similarity with this beast that he would not speak of or call attention to, but he felt it all the same. He would never admit it -- Silco would not admit such a glaring weakness, whether she was here or not -- but it made his approach less... cruel. Than perhaps it would need be. ]
I said when you make your decision, Yima will likely already have it waiting for you. For what little comfort it offers.
no subject
But the man he was speaking toā¦ had been speaking to, yes, they had been speakingā¦
He suggests so much with so few words. That this woman Yima would know his thoughts and desires before he made them know, that Shiva might already be in this place but in that strange form-]
Please,
[It begins with supplication, without pride.]
Will you tell me more of this Yimaā¦ ?
[It cannot be the Mother of the Black Childrenā¦ but could she beā¦ similar? Would he even be able to hear her voice? Or had he already, before heād clawed his way out from an impromptu grave?]
no subject
[ He asked, his tone curious. Had he really not asked around? Then again, Silco had forced his way into Yima's business from the moment he woke up, shaking and naked and wet with sap, he'd eschewed food and rest to find out who it was that ran this place, and while he won't say he was disappointed with the measure of who she was, he certainly had no loyalty to her.
Then again, she knew that, didn't she? It had been made apparent from the first moment. She didn't care, as long as they worked to bring about the end, and as long as she held her end of the bargain, in whatever form it may take. ]
Yima is...quite unique. Most find her a soothing, gentle presence. [ Most, of course. ] She has an uncanny knack for knowing what you desire more than anything and can provide from the ether if it is a need that you have. She has pulled necessary things from my world for my...condition. [ He tapped underneath his eye. It did not matter that he didn't need it as a shard bearer, or that it had simply been shimmer to make monsters. He wouldn't say that. That was between the two of them. ]
I think you will find her an interesting individual.
no subject
There have been a few people in his search through the city for Shiva that have mentioned this name. Yima. Lady Yima. But there have been many answers to what sort of person she was, and so it asks again, of this man who seems to show him some sort ofā¦ understanding? It is difficult to tell.
But though its mind had gone elsewhere before, to the point that it had almost seemed not to belong to this moment, place, or time any longerā¦ this time, its attention is razor sharp and intense as it listens to Silcoās answer. What he says aligns with some of the answers he has heard before, but he also claims to have had first-hand dealings with her, not just tale and reputation, and so-]
But what is it that she desires, for what we do?
no subject
[ He asked, with a wry twist of his lips. ]
She wants the Zenith to be successful in the end. What that means varies, I think. We only have the information from her and Cyrus, and information presented from others is always suspect without enough...confirmation.
[ At least, for some of their goals. He knows, of course, deep in where his shard lay, where the heart of all of that anger and hatred lie, that Zenith was right, because it mirrored his own desperate hatred for a reality without -- ]
The promise is, at the end of this all, that you will be reunited with your loved ones, if we are able to... rid the universe of it all. [ Just destroy the universe, to get everything back. ] Once it's all gone, we can shape what the universe will look like, us and whomever it is you hold close.
That's what she wants, according to her.
no subject
But there is no harm in listening. Whether it turns out to be true or not...
The idea of destroying a universe to create a new one is... so far beyond the scope of what he wished to do. One child... he had simply wanted to live quietly, and to keep Shiva safe. So how, now...]
She would have all of us be as gods in a new world... ?
[All of them? Even if there is no answer to be known... He cannot help but ask.]
no subject
[ He says, but Silco now has a non-committal tone. He neither believes in, nor trusts Yima. In the slightest. He is a man who is driven, and full of hate, but similar to this creature, all he wanted was one person, one place, a wild and free city with which to let chaos reign and power thrive. He had neither, and thus, there was only one option left to him, he thought. Only one direction to take.
What more could he do, but destroy it. ]
Personally, I want nothing more than the goal. Whether or not we are "gods" or direct some new world is meaningless to me. It is not what drew me to Zenith, and nor will it be what drives me in this place.
no subject
And yet, he cannot condemn certain parts of it. Not without hypocrisy. If Shiva could be returned to him... if this Yima woman was the only one who could do so...
He does not comment on the other man's motivation, condemning or supporting. Instead... he straightens back up to his full height, adjusting the long black coat and smoothing its lapels absently before his pale eyes find the other again.]
If I request an audience with that woman, might I use your name?
[He will need to hear it, first, but. Despite being told that she might foresee his visit... it seems best to go with the name of someone who had recommended her "services".]
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No matter. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled congenially. ]
You may. It is Silco.
[ He said, with a little flourish. If Teacher mentioned him, he was certain it would not... particularly help him. He already worked fine with Yima. She knew of his devotion toward Zenith, and certainly knew what his goals were. She knew it was not to her, but even so. It sold his devotion well, didn't it? ]
Do tell her I said hello, as well.
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That idea is the only thing on his mind now. Seemingly grateful, the spiral-shaped horns (well, one and a third horns, part of the right one seems to have been sliced off) bob in the air as the man? creature? bows slightly.]
Thank you.
[It occurs to him, a moment later,]
- I apologize. I do not remember my name, and cannot give you one in return.
[Shiva had called him "Teacher"... but he was not that to this man, and so, he has nothing. But it does not bother him. There are other things to concern himself with.]
But I will pass on the message.
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[ He says it not unkindly, but it's with a touch of amusement. That was often an opening to have a mocking name set up, or something like a joke, if one didn't have a name.
Not that it was his business, but it did make it hard to address the guy.
Well, little matter, wasn't it? He didn't move from the top of the building, but offered a look at the man, a pause: ]
If you end up staying with us, I suppose I'll see you around soon enough.
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Others are welcome to call me whatever they like.
[And that included Silco. As long as he knew to answer to it... It did not matter to him.
But now that he has a destination... he desires to move towards it. With a slight bow, he excuses himself with a last,]
Good day.