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Entry tags:
MARCH TDM + SETTING UPDATES
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.
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.
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.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.
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.
TWO CITIES, ALIKE IN DIGNITY
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.
Tables draped in white-and-gold-trimmed fabrics fare filled with fare typical 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.
However, those who have attended the forum in the past or simply have a sharp eye may notice: food doesn’t flow as freely in a feast-like setting as before. It’s more subdued in presentation and portion because as you may hear, the Blight (see below) is an affliction that’s been affecting the food stores of Springstar and Highstorm both. The Meri are nervous about this and blame it on the Zenites since they had won the Oracle on the Scorching Isles (January's event) and with it, punished the Meridian, even if unintentionally. As such, those who are notable Zenites or who wear their allegiance openly may not be treated as kindly. The military also seems to be more present at the forum. These two things are related, as it turns out, because only a few days after the new Shard-Bearers arrive, an invasion will begin.
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.
The mood of Highstorm is subdued as always, but still seems to be pleasant and joyous thanks to claiming the Oracle in the Scorching Isles. The Blight may be affecting the city and causing plants and the like to die, but there’s admittedly not much of it to be seen with Highstorm’s harsh winters. Maybe they’re not hit as badly as Springstar, or maybe they just haven’t noticed yet. Only time will tell. But regardless, notable Meri or those that wear their allegiance more openly will be treated politely, but perhaps with a little condescension. Highstorm is one step closer to winning than Springstar, after all.
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.
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 typical 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.
However, those who have attended the forum in the past or simply have a sharp eye may notice: food doesn’t flow as freely in a feast-like setting as before. It’s more subdued in presentation and portion because as you may hear, the Blight (see below) is an affliction that’s been affecting the food stores of Springstar and Highstorm both. The Meri are nervous about this and blame it on the Zenites since they had won the Oracle on the Scorching Isles (January's event) and with it, punished the Meridian, even if unintentionally. As such, those who are notable Zenites or who wear their allegiance openly may not be treated as kindly. The military also seems to be more present at the forum. These two things are related, as it turns out, because only a few days after the new Shard-Bearers arrive, an invasion will begin.
HIGHSTORM, луны-близнецы
Eternally in opposition, Highstorm provides the Manor's courtyard as the setting for their informational meeting. Formality is of utmost importance here, 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.
The mood of Highstorm is subdued as always, but still seems to be pleasant and joyous thanks to claiming the Oracle in the Scorching Isles. The Blight may be affecting the city and causing plants and the like to die, but there’s admittedly not much of it to be seen with Highstorm’s harsh winters. Maybe they’re not hit as badly as Springstar, or maybe they just haven’t noticed yet. Only time will tell. But regardless, notable Meri or those that wear their allegiance more openly will be treated politely, but perhaps with a little condescension. Highstorm is one step closer to winning than Springstar, after all.
para bellum (the occupation of alenroux)
A few days after new Shard-Bearers arrive, the word spreads quickly as the campaign begins: Meridian is invading Alenroux.
To those who have Harmonized with Meridian, they’ll be contacted by Cyrus through Communion 48 hours before the invasion begins. As he explains, Springstar is a city that depends on Alenroux far more than Highstorm (because of its much larger population), and with Alenroux currently under Zenite control, it’s imperative that they make sure that Zenith isn’t able to cut off access and cause a famine for Springstar. Zenith won’t be denied access to Alenroux or its bounty either, he makes that clear. This is just a matter of being proactive in their defense to protect their people. For the Meridian, their goals in supporting this effort are clear:
It takes some time for Yima to learn more about the events herself, but Zenith will also be contacted through Communion. With the air of a disappointed mother, she’ll explain that Meridian’s choice is regrettable since she thought they would be better than this. Yima explains that there’s no need to turn Alenroux into an open warzone and cut off both cities from their breadbasket. Instead, she lays out the following direction to gently break Meridian’s spirit first before turning to open hostilities:
To those who have Harmonized with Meridian, they’ll be contacted by Cyrus through Communion 48 hours before the invasion begins. As he explains, Springstar is a city that depends on Alenroux far more than Highstorm (because of its much larger population), and with Alenroux currently under Zenite control, it’s imperative that they make sure that Zenith isn’t able to cut off access and cause a famine for Springstar. Zenith won’t be denied access to Alenroux or its bounty either, he makes that clear. This is just a matter of being proactive in their defense to protect their people. For the Meridian, their goals in supporting this effort are clear:
- Create secure outposts. Well-built, defensible outposts are needed, so anyone who can assist with building efforts, and quickly are appreciated.
- Defend the outposts and the Meri soldiers at large. Alenroux is still dangerous because of the monsters, and soldiers will be staying overnight. Fighting off monsters is something that will also eventually make Alenroux inhabitable.
- Prevent Zenith interference. Highstorm surely won’t be happy about this, so make sure that the soldiers and the outposts are protected from Zenites just as much as from the monsters that roam the lands.
It takes some time for Yima to learn more about the events herself, but Zenith will also be contacted through Communion. With the air of a disappointed mother, she’ll explain that Meridian’s choice is regrettable since she thought they would be better than this. Yima explains that there’s no need to turn Alenroux into an open warzone and cut off both cities from their breadbasket. Instead, she lays out the following direction to gently break Meridian’s spirit first before turning to open hostilities:
- Collect information. Where are the outposts, how many soldiers are assigned to them, and what are their general movements. Scouting and spying will be valuable. Learning more about the Meri Shard-Bearers’ capabilities while they’re fighting creatures rather than Zenites is also useful.
- Create dissent. The people that work and visit Alenroux regularly have mixed feelings about the occupation unless they’re Meridian loyalists. Making the campaign unpopular with the people can push Meridian back without needing to raise a finger.
- Sabotage. But don’t get caught doing it, at least for now. Whether breaking defenses or leading more powerful monsters to the encampments, it’s best to break morale before needing to fight back openly.
SETTING UPDATES
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 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. As Shard-Bearers new and old take in their cities, they'll all see it change throughout the month...
OOC, these are all updates to the setting at large that players both new and old are free to interact with as little or as much as they wish! Feel free to use them as prompts on this post, in your characters on-going lives and arcs, or just let them go "that's none of my business" and ignore it. The world of Kenos is shaped by our playerbase, and these are some of the wider reaching effects of various player plots and actions.
OOC, these are all updates to the setting at large that players both new and old are free to interact with as little or as much as they wish! Feel free to use them as prompts on this post, in your characters on-going lives and arcs, or just let them go "that's none of my business" and ignore it. The world of Kenos is shaped by our playerbase, and these are some of the wider reaching effects of various player plots and actions.
THE BLIGHT
During the events of the Scorching Isles, Shard-Bearers encountered an affliction upon the island and unintentionally brought it back to Highstorm and Springstar with them. Known simply as “the Blight,” this condition steals time from the things it infects. It most frequently infects inanimate objects and will cause them to rot or degrade rapidly (such as a piece of metal rusting within hours) but is able to infect living things as well. Most notably, the Blight is infecting plants and animals in the two cities. Plants both decorative and necessary will wither and die, and small animals grow sick and die seemingly of old age. This has been seen in small amounts throughout the past month OOC but is greatly increased in frequency in March and beyond.FURTHER DETAILS
- Within the NPC populace, there’s a low-grade fear of the Blight intensifying and being able to infect larger animals/the people. There’s no evidence of this yet, but Shard-Bearers that were on the Scorching Isles will know this is possible.
- Some characters will be aware that the rare, blue flowers that grow in the barren portions of World’s End (February’s event location) seem to reduce the effects of the detrimental effects of the Oracle and the Blight. Because of some drops of characters that knew this information, you can assume that characters are able to learn this information if they’re interested enough to dig into it.
- Dr. Julia Melnik of Springstar is openly researching cures for the Blight and will recruit anyone interested to be research assistants to test formulations of cures on afflicted plants/creatures. You can handwave these interactions and use them for prompt(s), if you’d like!
- Finally, if curing the Blight is something your character would specifically be interested in, please note it in your Character Survey so that the Loremasters will be able to help you pursue this organically.
THE OCCUPATION OF ALENROUX
As mentioned above, Meridian has launched a surprise invasion and occupation of Alenroux. Because Meridian was able to successfully keep their efforts a secret throughout the months (!) they’ve been planning this, Zenith will not be able to repel their advances… Immediately, at least. After roughly a week OOC from this log’s posting, the Meridian outposts in Alenroux will be stable and will change the island in the following ways:If Zenith would like to repel these advances, this is a response that will be purely in player hands (but will be assisted by Zenite NPCs, of course!). If they want to reclaim Alenroux, they can, or they can simply let Meridian continue. It’s up to you! This is something that Zenite players should discuss both IC and OOC, and if this plot develops further, Loremasters will help facilitate the ongoing conflict as a part of our changing game environment.FURTHER DETAILS
- Outposts have been established in well-chosen, defensible locations throughout the island of Alenroux. They’re clustered more heavily closer to the Cornerstone and are non-existent in the more dangerous Northern portion of the island where little farming is done anyways.
- Meridian soldiers will be always staying in the camps and outposts. For now, they’re a more supervisory force that are protecting the farmlands of Alenroux. During the day cycle, the military will respond with hostility to anyone that threatens the farms. If your character would antagonize or outright fight Meridian military, please contact a Loremaster, since this will have repercussions! Otherwise, the soldiers will assist workers and visitors to Alenroux in a professional manner.
- During the night cycle, the military will defend their outposts from monsters and make occasional offensive excursions to reduce the threat of monsters. The secondary goal of the Meridian military is also to make Alenroux a place that people can live, though this is a longer term effort.
- Meridian Shard-Bearers will be strongly encouraged to assist with the effort. “Assist” is purposefully defined broadly so that characters can help in whatever way suits them. Scouting, building, monster killing, or just morale improving are all valid ways that will gain favor with their faction and may lead to further opportunity. For now, abstaining will not have consequences, but may in the future.
- Zenith Shard-Bearers will be treated with suspicion in Alenroux and are not allowed to approach any of the Meridian outposts, or at least not without triggering a fight. The military will not outright attack Zenites (unless provoked) and essentially encouraged to move along. However, they may wish to gather information about the outposts and Meridian forces to attempt to push back against the occupation.
- Unharmonized Shard-Bearers are not treated with hostility, but similar to Zeniths will not be allowed to enter any of the encampments.
- If your character has an interest in continuing or stopping the occupation, please note it in your Character Survey so that Loremasters will be able to help you pursue this organically.
SMALLER CHANGES
HIGHSTORM: GREENWOOD YARDS
Considering the affliction that threatens the well-being of flora and small fauna alike, the greenhouses are far more discerning with those who are permitted inside its gates, afraid of the contagion affecting the precious, invaluable greenery of long-dead worlds. After the occupation of Alenroux, Meridian will be outright turned away, and while Zenith possesses no formal military or police, the greenskeepers appear to be prepared to defend their property with physical force should it come to that. Unharmonized are still allowed inside. The rest of the Yard beyond the greenhouses are still open to all factions.
And though it may seem an odd place for such a gathering, the indoor bathhouse at the far end of the Yards appears to be gaining popularity for mysterious reasons; if asked, none of the locals will explain the abrupt uptick in visitation. But should you investigate yourself, the reason why becomes apparent through experience: the tea served by the attendants here has changed properties. Should you be a Zenite, you will be served a cup that decreases your body's natural need for food and drink for 24 hours - an effort to test a concoction to relieve the need to deplete resources and lessen the city's reliance on Alenroux. Should you be a Meridian, the tea you're served will increase your appetite a considerable degree even if you normally do not require sustenance, and you will find yourself unfulfilled even if you are unwise and eat yourself to the point of illness; this lasts for 24 hours. The Unharmonized will find the tea might make them vaguely woozy, and either cause mild increase or decrease in appetite.
KOWLOON: DRAUMAHOL (cw: drugs)
Those that frequent Kowloon may have heard about the sudden disappearance of the former owner and operator of the drug den Draumahol, though it was only really noted because of the business being closed for a few days. Practically unheard of, since the desperate of Highstorm and Springstar come to Draumahol for their various fixes that are a little more taboo on the surface. But, never fear. After a brief closure, Draumahol reopens.
While it may not be obvious early in the month, it'll be increasingly so that Draumahol is under new management. Those that frequent the business enough will be able to figure out that the new owner is Silco (or, if you personally know him, it's fairly obvious). If you would like to plot anything regarding Draumahol, we encourage reaching out to Silco's player, Jill!
SPRINGSTAR: THE CHURCH
After the loss of the first Oracle, the Church of Heliopolis has been busy tending to its flock as the numbers coming to seek comfort swell. The gatherings aren't formal "services" so much as they're chances for people to come together and inspire each other with their homes and dreams of home. One formal process that does stick out though is that with each "service" one member will tap into the world shown in their sunbeam and open their minds to Communion. Anyone that wishes to can also experience this member's home, see their friends, loved ones, and the sights. It's a intimate bonding activity, but seems to be very cathartic for those that partake.
Additionally, those that come by the Church frequently enough to be known faces at the "services" may also be approached by priests and priestesses and invited to join in smaller ceremonies. Always taking place during Springstar's dawn or dusk, these ceremonies have a markedly different vibe and are lead by Hieropoios Natalia herself. Attending these ceremonies is an exclusive honor that will reduce attendees' Discord and has a subtly addictive quality that will encourage them to return. Hm!
OOC NOTES
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kenoslogs.
YELLS
he stills when he hears the creature die, the sudden silence stark in the darkness. then marc sees it, the corpse, the body, heading straight towards him and— )
Shit.
( he moves before he's had time to consciously think about it, darting to one side and towards a bush, eyes wide and shocked and full of surprise. it's not the strangest thing that's ever happened to him, not at all, but he hadn't really been expecting it. he takes a second to reorient himself as a voice calls out in the darkness. he doesn't recognise it, but he looks nonetheless.
it's easy to pick out the details. the gold jewellery glints in the shine of the moon, and the red eyes—
—the mask—
khonshu had told him this (this? no, not this, that—) had been a trick by set, one to pull marc and khonshu into his grasp. he'd imprisoned anput.
the girl with the green hair had told him something else, but if set's here, what else is he supposed to think? if set's attacking him, then khonshu must have been right after all, and this is just another—.
another.
another example of his broken mind? the overvoid?
(hmm.)
he steps out into set's path. the wide-eyed bemusement of having a corpse thrown at him has been replaced by something calmer, something smoother. though his body is far from relaxed — the tension is there, as ever, coiled in his fists and his shoulders — marc is familiar. he holds an air of expectation, that whatever comes next isn't to be a shock.
(unless it is.) )
Well, ( he gestures with both hands, a loose wave as if to say 'what else?' ), I'm not lost.
what a first meeting for them THIS time
[ Harmonized or not, the man in white is a stranger and Set — feels strange and wrong-footed, protecting a land that is not Egypt. He is no longer a protector god, so far divorced from his origins that he must rebel against the old memory of them and shoulder the mantle of violence slipped over him by his own kin. Alenroux will be in the hands of the Meridian, whether it is by all-encompassing victory or by majority, and he will see it done.
To that end, he will address strangers — playfully hostile in tone as he whistles low, indulgent and applauds the lithe, powerful movement of the man in white.
But, he does not lunge into the fray. Something gives him pause, hovering between idle curiosity and the intrinsic tug of his vast consciousness. It's annoying, like one note within an old song he once enjoyed that he cannot place. Something about this man. ]
Alenroux is not the most friendly of places, not in the night. All sorts of foul things roam the land.
[ Set included. ]
Some of the Meridian here are also more included to shoot first, and question later. Personally, I like to get to know who I may have to break in the future. Are you sniffing around for Zenith? Perhaps driven by something more personal? Why are you out here?
CHINHANDS VIOLENTLY
marc, like set, includes himself. )
The night is always dangerous.
( as set continues, marc looks up at the sky, seeks out the familiar sight of an unfamiliar moon. khonshu had said that set was the only one of them, the only one of the egyptian gods that had managed to cross-over, to leave the overvoid. though this isn't earth, still he wonders if this had been where and what khonshu had meant. it's so different to everything that had come before — there are no jackals, no mummies; there's no sand.
still, a niggling voice in the back of his mind, sat somewhere at the edge of those thoughts, says it's strange that gena isn't here (but then, should she be? her diner—), that marlene isn't here. says that it's strange, too, how set doesn't recognise him. they've got a history, after all — set and marc, set and khonshu. but then— khonshu had said they'd try and use his mind against him, that they'd try and fill it with lies and delusions. faith, khonshu had said, have faith.
marc's always had faith, that's never been the problem. it's always been everything else. )
That's why I'm here, Set. ( he answers, a breath of silence hanging between them before he continues. he'll figure out the details later. even if it is what the dream had implied, even if it is everything that the girl with the green hair had told him it is, that doesn't change this. the here and now. ) The night isn't yours to claim. It doesn't matter who claims allegiance to who, there are still people — travellers — that need protecting.
You're not stopping that. I'm already broken.
no subject
He'd rather they be alarmed, rather they be worried about what it might mean for a god to be regaining his power. For the Ennead's god of war to be advancing on Meridian's behalf, coquettish and violent in all things. And perhaps, that is the moment where he startles. A visible shiver running up his body from heel to head, like a cat that's just been alerted and has softly fanned out its fur in protest. Set, the man in white calls him. ]
Oh? Did someone already warn you about me, protector of travelers?
[ He won't hope. Meridian-aligned he may be, but he has no hope. Only pragmatism and hollow focus.
Still, the familiarity with which Marc speaks to him — resists him — is strange. In some part of his confined consciousness, pinned to a board by the power of Kenos itself, he feels he ought to know something. There is a tug of familiarity, as if in some other life or time or existence, he knows this man. It is why he is unbothered by Han Sooyoung's tales of him, or Sebastian's discussion of myth and history — he intimately knows, he is something now and will become all that is said of him in the future. There is no escaping fate, only compiling it, for him. ]
What do you think I am doing out here? I know Lady Yima will send her eyes to the field, I know they will seek retribution and response — however, there are still dangers to them, and to anyone else who stays here in the night. You are not the only one who travelers look to for protection and safe passage. I would not stop you, from aiding me in that endeavor.
no subject
the rhythmic clicks of set's claws breaks the silence between remarks, breaks the silence as marc listens and looks and weighs verbal responses against what he knows (thinks? believes?). set's offer sits in stark contrast with everything of the gods marc has ever experienced: khonshu seeks to protect the travellers of the night, of course, there is no doubt about his commitment to that endeavour, but the how is blood-covered, shiny and wet with demands for hearts and sacrifices, for bodies. for murderers and the worst-of-the-worst. whilst khonshu strives to protect the innocent, it is not with innocence and set—
has never been any different, though marc's knowledge of the ennead is limited in scope. he's never been one to sit down with a book and learn, engross himself in knowledge. he is the tool, the blunt instrument and that's why he's here, regardless of what set might think, might expect of yima and her people.
(marc is both one of hers and he's not. he's khonshu's first and foremost, and if the god were to speak to him now, to whisper in his ear and demand retribution, marc would do it without a second thought because for all else he might complain, for all else that he might detest the work that khonshu puts him to, it's what he's good at. without it, he's nothing.)
marc looks towards the unmoving, still body of the beast set had thrown his way. he lifts his shoulders in a shrug, a perfect picture of disinterest and— ) Killing time? ( he suggests though it's clear it's not an answer meant in earnest. )
no subject
— you are, fxcking kidding me.
[ He mirrors the man in white, putting a foot forward moments after he does. It staggers his long legs, the bare heel of his foot crunching down on some scattered branches and leaves that have been torn from the brush he threw the beast through. The name of the god of moonlight, one of Thoth's stodgy old companions he held reading clubs with, or something of the sort. A patron of travelers, a domain which they shared in slightly different ways — for Khonshu oversaw those who moved in the night, and Set observed the patterns of those who crossed the desert. Mostly the foreigners and merchants.
Unlike Marc, Set takes a number of subsequent steps. A battering ram of a man, his hands reaching up to swipe his fingers along the dark, angled sides of his divine mask and cast it into a soft scattering of dark ash ( — no, dark sand ), releasing his appearance from the mild magic of it. The cascade of his hair is swift, the spilling of blood in the night, bringing with it the faint scent of something burning on the horizon. In the dark, his eyes glow, faint and luminous and — well, he doesn't seem a monstrous figure at all. Just a stern-browned, lovely man who cannot contain the way he glowers at the other. This protector in white. ]
What do you even know of that guy! Did you pick a name out of a tome of my history at random? Find the least-likely candidate from my extended family who would pique my ire to throw at me and catch me off guard? Khonshu? Of all the useless —
[ He's mad. But, with the atmosphere of someone who is always a hair-trigger away from purity of rage, irritable and tempestuous, finding invisible faults with bleak paranoia.
A deluge of sounds fall from him, the language of the ancient Egyptians — definitely cuss words, snapped off by the sharp edges of his prominent canines, ground out between clenched molars. Why it bothers him, he might not be able to explain. Khonshu. ]
Of all the Ennead you could have had contact with, it is Khonshu? Where is he? That miserable bookworm, I'll have him by the beak before day breaks, mark my words!
no subject
the mask is gone. set changes into a man of sorts, a far cry from the shapes and forms khonshu prefers. a pleasant appearance in contrast with the tone of his words, the anger and the energy, all of it all at once familiar to marc because it's the same frustrated venom khonshu throws his way when marc disagrees, when marc questions, when marc ignores. when marc doesn't understand.
it crescendos into words marc has no translation for, words that khonshu has never vocalised and marc can only guess at their meaning from the way that they're said until the end, until the questions.
where is he, set asks, and marc doesn't have an answer. he hadn't expected the question and yet, he thinks, if set is asking the question, surely it means that their worlds cannot have been destroyed? or— no, fuck, maybe? the overvoid is beyond time and space and marc's not sure if khonshu's ever really, truly been on earth. he's been with marc, but that's not the same thing.
marc, despite the strength of his convictions, despite the depth of his belief, is not a man that understands.
I don't know is the answer that marc thinks, but it's not the answer marc gives. ) A spaceship, the last I saw him.
( it's not wrong, and yet. )
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[ To be fair, as he recalled it — nearly all of the gods who had suddenly come back into the public eye after cowering uselessly from him for centuries were simpering at Heliopolis. The ones who would not genuflect to Isis were the ones who had not been impacted by his reign of terror and depravity, such as the ever-elusive Sekhmet. Ra, herself. Even Thoth and Ma'at, who resided far from Heliopolis in their own temples. Whatever became of any of the gods following his banishment, he could not say. Nor can he say that he thinks that this man is wrong.
Even if the experience differs greatly, there is always the matter of syncretism. All things, no matter how conflicting, were true. ]
So, I assume do not have to expect him to come crawling out from the roots of the Tree of Life to wheedle at me about my duties. I just have you. His, [ He gestures, with both hands, to Marc's full height. Is that disappointment on his face? ] Fanboy?
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Priest, ( comes the correction, though given khonshu, given marc's particular relationship with the god, that's not exactly true either. for marc, worship and faith have always been difficult, strange things, defined by conflict and anger and disappointment. his father's relationship with God had been so utterly, totally, completely different to marc's, even as a boy, when marc had been too young to be angry at the world.
it's not hatred, marc reserves that for himself, but the bulk of marc's feelings with regards to khonshu err on the side of regret. dislike. unhappiness at how he's intrinsically tied up in serving khonshu's wishes, in enacting his judgement. khonshu permits him his violence, permits him to walk a line between doing good and being marc spector, and truthfully, marc wishes he hadn't been so weak as to jump at the call of the first god that had spoken to him. )
And Khonshu's more concerned about his duties than he is anyone else's. ( unless they interfere, naturally.
to the rest of it, marc says nothing — the thought of khonshu emerging from the tree, all skull and suit, is an unsettling, nightmarish thought, and not one marc had even considered. khonshu has never been corporeal and marc isn't sure he's capable of it, and yet he's set.
(he still doesn't want to think about it.)
which leaves the specifics of where khonshu actually exists and the spaces he inhabits a question marc has never, not once in his life, really thought about.
(except, of course, to intermittently wonder whether khonshu did exist or if he was merely a symptom of marc's insanity.) )
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[ Ewwwwwww. ]
Funny, is it not? Khonshu's priest and the god of war, both plucked from the end of the world. As if we were the ones worthy of saving.
[ It is terribly ironic, he thinks. They are more than mismatched, they are mis-aligned, wrong for one another in the way that opposing Aspects are. He rolls his wrists, gesturing with open palms and flattened fingers. Invitational, for Marc to look upon him and find something reflected in the nature of them, the fact that they were permitted to continue on existing, while others did not. That there were other, better choices, and yet it is the two of them — a god-less priest and an evil god — allowed to carry on. How fucking stupid. Meeting Marc does not bring him peace or hope, it just makes him angry. And in his anger, he oft becomes cruel, bitter. ]
You know he is dead, right? Khonshu. The world ended, and so did he. The last of the Ennead is me, and the last of anyone you knew is you.
[ For Set, it is absolute that his world met an end. It is preserved, in his opinion, in the last, fleeting moment before it met its destruction — and it is that moment the Oracles will restore it to, will protect from the oncoming entropy that claimed it. He will stand readied, for nothing more than a promise he made. If unable to fulfill it, he will rip the whole, stupid thing into pieces and save what he can, instead. ]
So. Yes, I am killing time. [ He walks, to the beast he had thrown and steps onto it, following the line of its body as he reaches down — to seize a dark arrow still embedded at the height of its heart. The arrow vanishes into dark sands, once he takes it in hand, and those sands fade against his skin. Indistinguishable. ]
And I am also killing those who oppose me and my goals. So, I ask: standing there, do you oppose me?
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it's strange, and yet he's been saved not once, not twice, not three times but four now. marc has never wanted to die, and yet his feelings on living have always been complex. funny? yeah, sure, that's a word for it.
he tracks set's movements, gaze settling on the god before him not in awe, but muted acceptance. he's never understood khonshu and he doubts set will make any more sense to him and marc, unlike marlene, has no real knowledge, no depth of understanding of the ancient egyptians, their myths or their beliefs to draw on and find understanding in.
anger and quiet burning rage are familiar entities to marc, and yet— ) I've been dead before, ( he remarks, tone mild, as if it's a fact that'll change anything. he's died and come back, so the same could hold true for anyone else — even (especially) a god.
but would he want it? he's not sure. ) A ghost. A spectre. It's one of those things that's difficult to get to stick, and I've never known Khonshu to be so easy to get rid of.
( marc's tried — but then he's also begged and wept and cried for khonshu to return to him, to answer and to help and to guide. maybe khonshu had always been so fucking persistent because marc had wanted him to be, wanted to give shape and form to the darkness.
he tries not to think about that too much. ) Didn't really figure gods could die.
( but as for the rest of it—. marc weighs up his options. he'd opposed set before and on more than one occasion, but the god standing before him is not him. at home, the answer would've been: yes, he opposes set. here? hmm. ) As for opposing you — I don't know. What are you aiming to do?
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Priest, I killed my brother. Of all things to say to me!
[ Though Osiris had returned, it was only due to the intervention of other gods. Of the Nile, of Isis's miraculous power, and even then, the scars he had left upon Osiris had largely condemned him to imprisonment in Duat. He could not leave, not without manifesting in the shape of another — parasitical, a strangling vine. ]
However, you did not die, this is not the afterlife. This is where one ends up when they do not perish with their world.
[ Though he is a god, his diminished state and the Shard embedded within him means that he can die the same as anyone else in the world. Barring anything happening to his Shard, he will inevitably return. He will outlive many others, immortal in all but permanence. He speaks of the end of their world(s), of the death of gods at the hand of some mightier power — some unmaking of another's doing, even. Who knew what the eyes in the darkness represented, what truly happened to the worlds that were left to die while select handfuls of souls were transported by the Lady Yima from ruin to root.
Propping a foot upon the corpse of the beast, he cants his head. Furious without heat, indescribably combative, as he rasps and snaps every word he speaks. Brutal, brutish. He does not speak with a kind, understanding affect, but the immeasurably ferocity of a storm: ] My goals currently align with Meridian. Thus, I am devoted to restoring the world that was lost. As the last of the Ennead, I will see the world, the humans, and the Ennead — including that stupid moon god — returned to their rightful place in existence!
[ Because, um. Well. Marc's Khonshu's priest, right? Surely he wants the world that Khonshu lives in to return too??? ]
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he winces at the sharp retort. of course. osiris, cut into pieces and strewn across egypt. marc thinks he might have used that as a threat once. it had seemed effective, but marc isn't sure if it was the threat itself, or marc's commitment to the bit.
but myths are myths, and marc thinks that khonshu's proven well-enough that he ought to take those with a grain of salt. )
I didn't say my death preceded ( he gestures with a hand ) this, I just said that I've died before and I've come back. ( before here. in the desert, at the foot of khonshu's statue, dehydrated and delirious. he'd drowned in the hudson. sometimes he's wondered if they were just near-death experiences, and what he'd felt to be dying was just his body fighting to live, what he'd thought to be khonshu saving him, bringing back was just — delirium. marlene had certainly thought so. frenchie, too.
marc crouches, ignoring set in much the same way he'd ignore khonshu. he lets the bitterness, the anger, the pointed disgust and distaste wash over him. it's familiar and though marc wouldn't describe it as welcoming, it's comforting in some dark, perverse way.
he reaches out to touch the creature's still body, blood still wet and pooling in folds and crevices. it's a strange creature, one he doesn't recognise from myth or legend or even life. the body might still be warm, he thinks, though the gloves he's wearing make it hard to tell. )
—I don't care. ( he says at last, still not bothering to look back up at set. instead, he rests his hands on his knees, not bothering to clarify what it is he doesn't care about, and then he stands. marc's not very good at clarification, his thoughts often disjointed and meandering, stuck somewhere between four aspects when there's nothing else to focus on.
he means all of this, of course — zenith, highstorm, meridian, yima, cyrus. he'd thought it might have been a hysterical delusion brought on by stress or trauma or simply, even, a nightmare. he expects an agreement of sorts, a reminder that if he's to distrust anything, it's his mind.
there's more to it, of course. he doesn't think he knows enough either way to hold a true opinion; doesn't think he'll ever know enough, men like him aren't privy to the finer details. he doesn't think it's as simple as all that, and he's bored and tired of arguments, pissing contests between higher powers who think the illusion of choice is as good as a choice.
set's goals make sense for him, he thinks. he can imagine khonshu saying something similar, can almost hear the associated, co-existing demands of how to achieve it, of what marc must do to ensure khonshu's aims are met.
he wonders who set makes those demands of. )
Don't harm anyone that falls under my protection, and I won't oppose you.
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[ However, the snide little tone that Set takes with Marc suggests that he does not believe that at all; he's less the type to find humans pitiable and endearing, and more the type to consider such meddlesome antics the whim of a god. Whether Khonshu was the one who intervened, or Osiris was the one to reject the Knight from Duat ( as Set would assume ), it's odd to look upon a man so thoroughly god-touched. Even in his time, the Ennead did not select single humans to carry their attentions, instead lavishing them upon cities and centers of worship instead.
As he is ignored, by the man who crouches alongside the cooling corpse of the beast he has felled ( and yeeted at Marc, as a warning! ), he briefly bristles. Of all things, failing or choosing to acknowledge him in any capacity rankle him, and though his hackles begin to rise, he does not have to force the man to look upon him again. To speak to him. Marc elects to do that, all on his own. On silent feet, he draws near to the Knight again, bare ankles and calves in the peripherals of his vision. The curtain of red hair unbound, utterly perfect, and far too long to be sensible for a wargod; anyone could just grab it.
But, it burns faintly. Coils in pale plumes of delicate flame and smoke, here and there. An oddity for sure, but related to the sickly-rich sense of Discord that radiates from him. He's sloppy, messy, beautiful in appearance and disheveled in personality and bite. ]
Why would I agree to that, priest? If someone falls under your protection, but threatens my goals — I will destroy them. You cannot cast your net so wide, you will fail at whatever you want to accomplish too quickly. It will cause you too much grief to carry on, however you do. Be a little more judicious, and I may find you agreeable. Even if you are the moon god's own.
[ As he bends down, it is to ghost a hand over the material of Marc's shoulder, to flatten his palm there as if he needs to steady himself upon another to sink to the ground, kneeling in the dirt alongside the beast that remains still. ]
Did Khonshu ever teach you the last rites of his ancestral home?
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priest, set says. it's how marc had introduced himself and it's how he often chooses to identify, the alternative less-than-pleasing given who marc is trying not to be, but the title sits strangely, sounds odd to his ears when uttered by a god. son. spector. marc. familiarity and paternalism that marc has never once stopped to consider deeply or even at all. khonshu was his god, so of course marc was his son.
his mouth twists, a momentary lack of surety gracing his features before settling — as per, evidenced by the well-worn lines of his face — into a frown. marc has always tried to do too much, has travelled as far and as wide as those that have needed his help have asked him to — chicago more than once, despite how much he'd sooner avoid the city, south america, the middle east, all places where marc spector had worked and moon knight was later needed to pick up the pieces. it didn't always work, and marc never blamed moon knight for that — the failings were all marc's own, the expected fallout from a life of indiscriminate violence, of saying yes to whoever wrote him the biggest cheque, and an inability to know when to stop.
marlene had tried to pull him back more than once, twice, thrice; jean-paul, too, more times than marc has ever realised. gena. crawley. all of them, in their own way, had tried to warn marc of the perils of stretching himself too thin, of how his delicately constructed house of cards was likely to collapse at the merest hint of stress.
marc hadn't listened then, and he isn't about to start listening now. )
Don't underestimate me. ( his answer, then. marc is firm and absolute in his self-belief, however that might sit discordantly with the dark, troubled depths of his eyes, or the shadows that sit beneath them. ) Grief has never stopped me.
( khonshu has never taught marc much of anything and marc had never asked any questions. he'd been the only god to ever pay marc attention, to ever claim him as their own, but there's a chasm between them: khonshu's wishes, marc's wishes. khonshu's greedy need for vengeance, marc's innate need for violence versus his desperate longing to be anything but that.
khonshu had always treated marc as pitiful and pitiable, foolish for not knowing more than he does, but marc had always opted not to know. knowledge hadn't helped him before, as elias spector's son, and knowing more about khonshu, about any of it — it benefited neither of them, in truth.
his lips twitch at the question, a curl of conflicted emotion pulling at the corners of his mouth and making itself known in the lines of his face as set presses his hand against marc's shoulder. )
That wasn't part of what he asked of me.
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[ Naturally, he would not underestimate anyone who held ties to the Ennead. Ma'at had wrested him free of his own divinity, imprisoned it far from him and under the watchful eye of Isis. Yet, he was the one to survive his world. He was the one ( first / last / only? ) to come to this place, created and designed for the task that lay before him. The restoration of his world, for the sole reason that the souls upon his wrist needed to be returned to the passage of Duat, to be given back to the order of life and death. Because he had promised.
As long as he is clear with Marc, that whether or not the man points someone out and claims them under his protection or whether that protection is implied — if that individual gets in Set's way, he will crush them. He will tear his way through the Knight, if he must. Khonshu's priest or not. Khonshu would get a new one, in his opinion, but only if he was alive to do so. Otherwise, no one would mourn this man. ( Except, perhaps. )
So, Set goes to his knees. With a hand upon Marc Spector's shoulder, drawing it along the line of his arm to one of his hands — he takes it, guides it to the beast's cooling body to press the palm of Marc's hand to it. ] Repeat: « The corpse to the earth, and the ba to the heavens. »
[ It is, of course, said in his own tongue. The language of the Egyptians, ancient and gone by Marc's lifetime. ]
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even so, marc is startled — shocked and wide-eyed, conflicted — as set takes his hand and presses it against the beast's body. a silence, palpable, lingers between them as marc opens his mouth as if to speak and gets no further than that. khonshu had claimed him, he'd claimed khonshu as his — whichever way round events truly occurred, it didn't matter, but the request to repeat set's word sits uncomfortably in his chest and his throat and at the tip of his tongue. he is not of the egyptian people, and though it's been a long time since marc has practiced his father's faith, has participated in any traditions or even given any of it much thought other than to acknowledge the perpetual guilt that never seems to ease at giving all of it up for an egyptian god—.
he redirects his attention though he doesn't withdraw his hand, not for the moment. he looks at the body, then he looks up towards the sky, eyes searching for the moon out of instinct. a want for an answer to a question he doesn't ask. )
—Khonshu only ever asked me to enact his vengeance, not to honour the dead. ( (or whatever this is.) it's a clarification of sorts as to what he'd said moments before. he doesn't clarify that whilst for set, there may be an afterlife, for marc there is not. perhaps, he thinks, he shouldn't have said he was a priest (he hadn't meant it literally. ) Not my job.