Let's do the Test Drive Again

[wolof]

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.

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.

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 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!

This can be done in groups of 2 to 4 players, and three is a recommendation - if you can swing it! It’s more fun when you get into philosophical debates, right? Regardless, when your group comes to a decision, please record it here. These don’t have to be fully threaded out to be recorded, so the conclusion can be discussed OOC if you prefer. Actions can be submitted until JANUARY 9TH, after which a tally will be taken of decision and filed away for later, devious uses.

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.

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.

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.

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.

• 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

Welcome to Kenos! As a reminder, all new players need an invite to play in the game, which are now open.

This log is Game Canon. Any characters who are not apped to the game will disappear. If Cyrus or Yima are asked, they’ll explain that this happens sometimes, since not every soul has a strong tether to Kenos and sometimes return to the Timestream. They’re fine and may even return to Kenos one day, but for now weren’t able to make the full journey.

As a reminder, your character has a Shard somewhere on their body that encompasses their soul, so keep note of where you're sticking it on their person for reference! Additionally, they have a tattoo of their Aspect somewhere on their body. Please be mindful this Aspect will be assigned to you upon approval and whatever you choose for the TDM may be temporary (for new characters)!

For the Highstorm and Springstar prompts, both cities will be fully open and accessible to all characters once they are saved from their rather harrowing ordeal at the Tree of Life. For prompt ideas and any general information about the cities and what you can find there, please see the Navigation page and check out the locations!

FOR NEW PLAYERS:

When characters emerge from their cocoon/the ground, characters may be wearing their normal clothes, or they might be nude. Up to you!

At some point in the days after leaving the Tree of Life, new Shard-Bearers will have a dream, even if they're usually not capable of sleeping. All new players should read this post, since this details how they'll learn about both factions and their goals and should help them make a decision in which Faction they'd be drawn to.

New characters will not have access to any canon abilities on the TDM.

Your character will be offered temporary housing either at the Heliopolis district or Yima's manor for the first few weeks after their arrival. They will also be given a stipend for basic supplies like clothing and personal effects, and food is served in the cantina (Heliopolis) and at regular meal times in the Dining Room (Yima's manor). Once they Harmonize, they will get personal permanent chambers and a fancy retainer in their Faction's city. Wow! 🌈

CODING

Comments

II-b... I hope this is okay!!

[gravings]

[ Gray came here to help the new Shard-Bearers, knowing very well that they have cause to be upset and overwhelmed with their new circumstances, and thinking that in this small way she can still make herself useful. There was a time when she was terribly afraid of strangers and wouldn't dream of seeking them out on her own, but by now she's experienced enough unrest in her life that she feels at least a little qualified to lend a hand to others going through their own unrest. In fact, she's come to find that the people who get pulled from their worlds and arrive as "Shard-Bearers" are overwhelmingly kind, if sometimes rough around the edges, and it's usually rewarding to get to know them.

But maybe not this time.

There is something fundamentally harrowing about the man in front of her even if he hasn't yet done anything to earn her anxiety. It has less to do with his actions and everything to do with Gray's extreme spiritual sensitivity. His presence crushes her in a way that even Faker didn't; a Servant, a devil, a god, she can't say what he is, maybe all, but maybe none. His monstrous aura bleeds into her bones until they become saturated and then flooded, until they're tatters of tissue ripping apart under a hurricane.

But somehow her skeleton remains solid, and though she's frozen and trembling with fear, she remains standing. She yearns for someone to explain the existence of this man to her, but Lord El-Melloi II has been gone for a long time.

Distantly, she hears the man say something about burning. As menacing as that sounds, she realizes he's talking about the tree. He isn't her enemy... that she knows of, and it's that fragile thought that keeps her on the functional side of panic. ]

N-No.

[ She's amazed she's even able to say that much, though her soft voice is edged with tension. ]

The situation is this bad... because the tree was hurt before. It'll probably get worse if you try to kill it.

gray...!!!! it's perfect, thank you ♥️

[ragou]

[ Defanged on arrival, Douman is powerless and deranged; still fundamentally the same chimeric mess that differentiates his unique Saint Graph from every other possible permutation of "Ashiya Douman", but unable to tap into that spiritual well for any purpose but existing in it.

He's malevolent. That choice is written everywhere on the planes of his body, invisible but insidious. ]

Mmm, assuredly so. If we fail as a consequence of trying, that is.

[ He turns on his heels to face the young woman and her tension-taut posture, his coal eyes scanning her from feet to head. Zero powers mean zero sensitivity: for the time being, she remains just a girl.

It's infuriating. He keeps a tight lid on that rage, and turns his attention back to the tree. ]

But none of us have the power to cleanse it, and its pain is too great. What benefit is there in keeping it alive? If you see a mouse with its neck half-broken by a trap, would it not be kinder to give it release?

[gravings]

[ Gray is just a normal girl with the body and holy lance of King Arthur, there's nothing to see here...

Because she doesn't have the option of scurrying away like her body is telling her to, she has no choice but to face the man, her normally shy gaze sharply alert in the way a mouse might eye a looming cat. Her hood is low over her face, her stance squared and depressed under the soft outline of her cloak.

She isn't much of a debater, instead much more prone to accepting what other people say, so his logic doesn't feel immediately wrong to her. If something is already on its way to dying, then a mercy kill makes sense. But she knows enough about the ways of the people here that she has to slowly shake her head, scrounging for words as she quietly drowns in the malevolence of the man's presence. She has Add hidden under cloak, but she has to wonder if even he would be enough to combat whatever this man is. It's not a rational fear when he's probably as powerless as she was when she first arrived, but she trusts innately in her instincts. ]

The Tree is very important to the people here. If you tried to destroy it, I think you'd be... in a fair amount of trouble.

[ And as a newcomer — he must be one, she would've noticed a presence like his ages ago — surely he doesn't want to immediately get on the bad side of the entire populace? Right?? ]

[ragou]

[ How wild would it be if Douman immediately cemented himself as the unhinged maniac who burned down the Tree of Life on his first hour of arrival... which is actually not something he would not do, just because he's a certified expert in sabotaging not only other people's lives, but mostly his own. He would've seriously considered the pros and cons of instant infamy if he weren't also depowered, which is the worst part of this entire thing. Ugh.

God!!! Why won't the universe just let him be nuts!!!

Alas, the timing isn't right. Swallowing the allure of scorched-earth tactics, he tilts his head to the side, slowly, and feigns thoughtfulness with a tap of his long index finger to the side of his jaw. ]

Hm, hm. [ There's an uncomfortable pause between those hms, because he's an asshole. ] Something so important, and yet they leave it in such a sorry state. The "people" here must be quite cruel, indeed.

[ So sad! Douman hangs his head, theatrical and exaggerated, but there's a bit of truth to the sagging; the pain is becoming increasingly more intolerable, and the sorry state he's in doesn't lend itself to prolonged exposure to agony. ]

What to do, then? You seem to know better than most.

[gravings]

[ Someone looking to Gray for direction involving critical thinking?? That would make her nervous on a normal day, so it's even worse when the person looking to her may or may not be an unholy cryptid.

For what it's worth, she doesn't feel that he has any actual expectations of her... or maybe she just can't imagine that he would, hooded mouse that she is. But the sad reality is that she really is the more equipped between them to make sense of the situation, so she forcibly reallocates her brain cell energy away from Douman-shaped anxiety and toward Tree-shaped anxiety. ]

I think you're right that it's dying a cruel death... so maybe there's something else we can do to make its passing easier.

[ She can feel that it's suffering, and of late she's acquired an amateur ability to mend objects, but she doesn't consider it worth attempting with the scale of the tree's damage. Absent the options of both healing and a mercy kill, she's reminded of how her mentor once cared for a dying cat. She thought him overly sentimental at the time, but it seems he doesn't have to be here to keep teaching her lessons. ]

It's reaching out to us, so I think it wants us to be there for it. To hold its hand... in a way. Maybe we can try Communion with it...

[ragou]

[ Gray is small, and shrouded, and hides herself as if her form is worth concealing. That, in itself, is a curious little quirk, but not enough of one for Douman to want to dig into so deeply (yet).

(fun fact: Douman would probably tell Gray to murder her entire hometown, if he knew her circumstances. why not? why should she mourn them?)

For now, thoughー this. Communion. The suggestion that they hold a tree's hand as it wades through its last throes of death. Douman, a newly-annointed Shard-Bearer, can tell that this is probably what he's supposed to be doing, but he finds it so trite, so impossibly platitudinous that he can't help but tip his head back and bark a harsh, lingering laugh. ]

Ah... ahaha! I see, I see! Mmmmm, ahaha, my apologiesー to be laughing about such a miserable situation, I... [ Another string of chuckles, and he seems to regain himself. god he's so embarrassing ] ...Ah, again, my sincerest apologies!

[ he is not, in fact, Sorry ]

How interesting! How curious. This priest has never attempted anything like this beforeー young miss, if you could guide me through the process, I would be eternally grateful.

[ His smile spreads into a grin, and he offers Gray his hand, as if?? ? ? She will really guide him into holding the tree's hand? ? ? ?? He's nuts. ]

[gravings]

[ (sometimes even charlatans are right about entire villages deserving the sweet embrace of Rhongomurder, but that's neither here nor there)

If Gray weren't already a bad vibe supersensor, Douman's inappropriate jollity would be more than enough to tip her off to the fact that this is in fact an unsavory individual. And with that exclamation point, he is now holding out his hand so that they can share one of those most intimate of links, Communion. Anxious, cautious Gray would almost sooner take off her arm, but these are extenuating circumstances. If they do nothing, then the miasma may very well kill them both. And, she tries to tell herself, what's the worst that could happen if she does hold Communion with him? It's a connection of sharing, but she's never known it to cause harm.

Even so, she has to fight a tremble. Slowly, as if petting the head of a rattlesnake, Gray's fingertips tap softly to the man's offered hand. ]

... You only have to focus. Keep your thoughts on me and the Tree.

[ She can moderate how much access he has to her, she thinks. She cracks open the door of her mind, just enough for him to establish a connection, and opens herself more receptively to the Tree. Surely nothing can go wrong from here!! ]

[ragou]

[ And, truly, being unable to tap into his powers makes Douman a benign beast, almost-human. This act of Communion may have been disastrous if something weren't walling him in, but mercifullyー

ーhe's largely neutered. Thank god.

His palm is cool to the touch, when their hands meet. There's an air of him humoring her, something patronizing about the curl of his lips where that preternatural smile is stamped over his features, but there's curiosity tooー not just the simple desire to know, but a need to know.

So. He flings the door to his mind open as he closes his long fingers around Gray's, the physical action mirroring the way his subconscious fingers twine into the mental crack she affords him, and peers inwards, inwards, inwards. What he shows as collateral damage is a strange meld of what the Tree wants them to seeー the destruction, the pain, the fire of its pastー and his own void, panoramic glimpses of both carnage and the painfully trite.

(a flash of wide sleeves, and a cadre of whispering Heian noblemen; Douman, head bowed and fingers tearing vertical lines in tatami, gritting his teeth and coughing bile; a full moon over the flat horizon of Heian-kyo; bloodied corpses staining dirt roads, and Douman with the skull of a dead man in his hands.)

Loveless, spite-filled, empty. And above all else, a desire for destruction, turned inwards. He loathes, and he loathes himself. ]

[gravings]

[ As much as Gray seeks to protect herself, she's no mage; her physical control is as strong as her mental defenses are weak, and the cracks Douman sinks his fingers into give and tear, widening the gap for his mental eye to peer through. The gaps widen further as glimpses of his memories inundate her — filled with empty hatred like a possessed madness, like the ghosts that haunted her in her village's cemetery, and like then she begins to lose a sense of where she begins and ends.

In return—

Her memories aren't nearly as shocking as his. What comes to the forefront is despair, dull yet biting like a chattered blade drawn slow across flesh. The faces to the despair are smiling, adoring, everyone looking to her with pride and fervor in their eyes, and looming large is an old, old cemetery, everything overlapping so that they become one.

If he looks a little deeper, there's a gaunt man with long black hair, untouched by the prior visions. The man lies in the deepest, softest shadow of her heart, his tall back radiant. The feelings that surround him are a dozen things at once: faith, exasperation, affection, pity, worry, admiration, and more. She's with him as he lectures, as she drags him out of bed, as he explains a mystery, as he huffs and puffs his way up a hill, as a wyvern-pulled chariot bears down on them.

And as all this information goes back and forth between them, the Tree readily joins the gray, pushing the deluge that is its pain into both of the tiny people who have chosen to try to bear it. Gray gasps as it pours into her like poison, driving her to her knees, and her mind is flattened under an urge to act, to shed blood, to rip something apart. Linking with just Douman would have been jarring enough, but with the Tree too, she threatens to unravel into nothingness. It's only her death grip on Douman's hand that grounds her, though it's ironically the cause of her turmoil too. ]

[ragou]

[ Graves and fanaticism. Douman perceives Gray in kaleidoscopic fragments, and feels the outline of her despondency as sense memory in lieu of something cogent; she takes more shape when she's in the context of that stranger with the long hair, her identity more fixed when she places herself in memories with him.

Warmth mixes with violence. Ironically, it's that flicker of positivity still inherent in Gray that Douman fixates on, keeps to the forefront of his mind while he allows the miasma of the Tree's pain to flow into him.

The cloying miasma of the Tree's anger is familiarー it settles into Douman's being like a well-loved poison. He's not unaffected by it, naturally, but he's the embodiment of the "this bad boy can fit so much [INSERT NOUN] in him" meme: a sponge for negative emotions, he weathers the Tree with far more grace than any human reasonably should.

When Gray buckles, he kneels next to her. Big, too big, as cloying as the pain that storms through the both of them. It hurts, and he still hates, but there's a sliver of self-destructive amusement that keeps his mind's eye fixed, insistently, on Gray's past: her attachment, and her hope.

He takes their linked hands, and holds it against his chest. ]

Does it hurt? [ He manages, through a throat that feels too tight for comfort. He's enjoying himself, really. ] Mm... should I let go, miss?

[gravings]

[ She struggles to hold her existence together, the threads that comprise her twisting from her grasp like specks underwater. In the end, it's her fear that saves her; her cowardice, the bane of her existence, her cowardice, which has always dragged her without sympathy or grace from one miserable circumstance to the next.

The fear originates with the man, her hand now sandwiched between his chest and hand, his leering amusement cutting through her pain so that the threads that comprise her snap viciously tight again like the bite of a beast.

His words, polite and mild on paper, fall on deaf ears. With uncharacteristic rudeness, Gray rips her hand away from him as if burned, her face open with alarm and opposition. The Tree is well and truly the least of her worries at the moment. ]

Who are you?

[ The softness has fled her voice, given way to the demands of fear and survival. ]

[ragou]

[ Satisfaction winds through the lingering miasma of pain; he smiles through both of those oppressive emotions, and looks back and forth between Gray and his now-empty hand as if he's searching for vestiges of her in his empty palm.

Interested in her, in a way that archaeologists find rock formations fascinating. Gray asks him who he is, and the curl of his lips widen to show teeth. ]

Who am I? Or, hm, I suppose you mean what am I?

[ Twisting words like thread. He rears up from his previously-knelt position, low-hanging robes shifting like shadows in dim light. ]

I'm merely the same as any other lost soul that's been carried here. Suspended neither in heaven, nor hellー

ーmmm, limbo incarnate. [ He spreads his arms, and laughs. A little inside joke, at his own expense. ]

[gravings]

[ She stands quickly as he does, and struggles to make sense of what he says. Maybe Lord El-Melloi II would have understood in his unlikely way, but Gray is only more confused by the humor he finds in his joke. Well — she thinks she gets the gist of it, but if a choice has to be made to send him to Heaven or Hell, she finds it fairly obvious where he should go.

When he laughs, she frowns and has to remind herself that there's nothing he can do to her — at least, not for the moment — and she stifles her instinct to attack, though her hand remains tense by Add's cage underneath her cloak. Instead she shuffles a half-step backward, not eager to touch the man again even by accident. ]

I don't understand.

[ She lacks her exposition man... sometimes even Fates need Fate explained to them...... ]

??? how did i lose this notif... i'M SO SORRY, feel free to let this one go if it's too late!

[ragou]

[ Fates need more exposition than anyone else, even when they're part of the canon... it's too bad that Douman is just so bad at being candid, and when he is, it's just an entire chapter of evil villain exposition. We can only choose one with this absolute trashfire of a man.

That said: Douman stays where he is. Back upright on his feet, breathing in the pain of the tree and subsuming it in a way that is probably deranged. It shouldn't be comfortable, being here and being upright, but he's so comforted by the presence of anguish that it seems to bolster him, even when there's sweat beading on his forehead. ]

Have you never encountered one? A shadow of history, walking among you.

[ He puts his palm to his chest, above where his heart would be. ]

A Servant to the world's whimsー dead men walking. I, too, am one of them.

NEVER

[gravings]

[ Servant. The word would be innocent to most people, but to Gray, the capital S is all too evident. Though she's only encountered two Servants in her lifetime, those two left their marks on her — and the one she happened to fight at full strength was a fearsome force beyond her caliber, and not even half as malicious as the Servant before her.

He will only become more of a risk once he harmonizes and gains his powers back. For all his theater, Gray is anything but entertained. If she were a mage, the only practical actions would be to crush him and his Shard now or ingratiate herself to him.

Unfortunately, Gray is not a mage, nor is she simpering enough to try to make him an ally. All she can do is look at him like a firefighter watching an ember grow in the brush, her young face darkening beyond the pall cast by the miasma and their disastrous Communion. ]

A Servant. Then you're a Heroic Spirit?

[ Her question lies with the "heroic" part of it... ]

[ragou]

[ Heroic. Terminology coined by hopeful humans playing four-dimensional chess with pieces that never belonged to them. Douman has already had this revelation many, many times, even before he died and became what he is now, but it comes back to him in a rush of distant cold: in the grand scheme of things, he's never had a say in anything pertaining to himself.

(A simplistic, childlike perspective. But he believes it, and hurts himself with it constantly.) ]

Indeed! An ignoble hero, a character both revered and hated in the same breath.

[ Douman observes Gray's caution, and feels the flutter of pleasure-disdain at the way she holds her ground; dipping his head, he hides the way his smile splits. Canines bared, too self-loathing. ]

They call me Ashiya Douman. ...And you, young miss, must be a magus. Celebrated, idolized.

[ Guesswork, based on her memories. ]

[gravings]

[ There is a lot of cynicism in his definition of a Heroic Spirit, but now having met both him and Mordred, Gray is inclined to agree that not all Servants are as admired as Alexander the Great was by her mentor. She has difficulty imagining the man before her as revered at all, unless it was by some dark cult.

She wasn't expecting him to actually disclose his True Name, but for his generosity he only gets a blank stare... how sad. But she can at least respond to his next statement with a slow shake of the head. ]

My name is Gray... and I'm not a magus.

[ Though she can't deny that at one point, she was idolized. How much did he see? How much would it matter if he saw everything? She finds the answer is that she cares little for the memories of her village, but the thought of him playing voyeur to her memories of her mentor sends a current of revulsion shivering through her. ]

I'm not familiar with your legend.

[ She almost doesn't want to know it at this point, but it's probably something she should know about for her own sake. ]

[ragou]

[ The cat's out of the bag, anyway. It's been a while since Douman called himself Abe-no-Seimei in Shimousa, a private little joke to needle himself with; he likes Limbo still, prefers it to Ashiya Douman because he chose the moniker for himself, but. Servant mechanics left the chat when the world did. Douman is neutered with or without his secrecy.

(That, and the whole part where he betrayed an alien god and got his ass kicked, but. You know.)

More interesting: Gray isn't a magus. What does that make her, thenー a strange, arcane individual with knowledge of a world she shouldn't belong in? The pieces of the puzzle don't quite line up, but then again, Douman has always been a fan of filling in blank spaces.

He laughs, and offers his palm again. ]

Well, well. If you'd like to know more about this humble monk, my hand is free to take once more.

[ Literally the worst memshare option, but it is convenient. ]

[gravings]

No thank you.

[ Even though her words are polite, she speaks with enough speed and certainty that they defy propriety. Even if she's curious, she isn't suicidal anymore, and after the miasma and the Tree and the first round with Douman, she isn't sure she can take much more without flopping over.

He's a monk apparently involved with some catastrophic hellfire and he went mad, not necessarily in that order. That's probably as much as she needs to know to navigate around him. ]

Um. In any case, it seems like the Tree is doing better now.

[ Or at least, not as bad. Not pointing this out because she's looking for an escape route, no sir. ]