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 Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 3:04 pm
[DAY 3 TASK: BLESSING OF THE HOPEFUL]THIS IS JUST A PLACEHOLDER since Clairins didn't actually complete the task!Effects With this Blessing, you become aware of your own existence. Things begin to crack at the surface now, sometimes whole words and memories. It begins to shape a little more of who you are.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 3:09 pm
[BLESSING OF THE HOPEFUL, THE DISCOVERY]... but if he HAD, he would have chosen this:
You drink from the gold teacup, and the memory you immediately evoke is one of pride. You feel carefree and strong. You feel accomplished and empowered. You know, or some part of you, some part of you that clicks and connects, that this was, once, yours.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 3:09 pm
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 3:11 pm
 [THE FINAL TASK, THE SACRIFICE]The goddesses were calling for him. Clairins entered the shrine, whatever fear he felt the previous day replaced with an overflowing sense of purpose. The whispers of old, half-remembered memories rustled past his ears. It should have been unsettling, but instead it filled Clairins with the sense that he was not alone, and that, for all his posturing and proclamations that he was better than his brethren, filled him with an inexplicable comfort. He smiled, not only for himself. He was not alone.
Neither, it seemed, were the goddesses. All three of them awaited him today in the form of statues. Still unseeing, Clairins paid no heed to the words on the plaques beneath them, and circled them instead, awaiting his orders. "Goddesses?" He called.
They answered. Their voices reached him through the fog. Coiling around him, the heavy white smoke reduced his already poor vision to nothing, and so he followed those voices as his only guide.
Great black coils stretched out from the fog, wreathed with faint spots of color. He heard rather than saw the last task laid out for him, another whisper past his ear: Offer to us your Heart.
That gave him pause. Everything he had done (almost everything, he amended, remembering those brief moments of treasonous freedom) since he awoke had been in service to the goddesses. For every memory stolen from him, he received power in return. But was he prepared to make such a sacrifice?
They had promised him. He would become greater than he was. To Clairins, that meant everything, and he had faith in that promise.
He opened the door.
The room waiting for him was almost a disappointment.
It was the same as the one before it. Almost exactly the same. Almost. The goddesses were alight with color. Watching. Waiting. He no longer wondered about what they wanted him to do. The room was silent until the whispered memories grew louder, louder, until it was a chorus of voices in his ears and colors flashing past his eyes, and he fell to the ground, shaking, trying to sound out the only noise he could almost make sense of...
Nothing came. Over the din, the goddesses spoke:
"Yet, you are still so little."
"You cannot escape forever."
"Or so it goes."
Clairins saw red. His eyes snapped open to see nothing but red. It tore into the world around him, consumed him, filled him with agony and such blinding hatred he wanted so badly to turn his eyes away from it -- but there, in the sky, in the moon was a face, terrible and angry and demanding his attention.
Every word was a raw ache, sliced away as if from his own throat. But then, just as Clairins felt himself slipping, losing the ability to think of anything else but how badly he wanted to scream, two new colors burst into the sky. They too said something. At this point, Clairins didn't care what it was, too overwhelmed by gratitude when he realized he could feel himself again.
He remembered. There was more than this. He had a name -- a real name -- it was...
The sky shuddered and the world shifted once more. The gray was replaced by such bright bursts of color that Clairins had to shut his eyes. When he could see again, he dragged himself to his feet. There was a beautiful castle waiting for him. It would be nice to see it up close...
He dragged himself to that opulent castle. This castle was meant for him. Made for him. This was the greatness he deserved. He hardly had to think as he made his offering, plunging his hand into his own chest and pulling out his Heart -- the screaming in his ears sounded more like applause. Cheering. They were cheering for him. He had wanted so badly to hear that again.
Smiling, dazed with an empty, distant sort of ache, Clairins held up his offering to Pride, and he did so with triumph, like it was a prize that he had deigned to give them. In his last scraps of consciousness, he fancied that obtaining his Heart would surely be the greatest victory imaginable...
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 3:12 pm
[THE FINAL TASK, FADING]
The goddesses had promised Clairins that he would become something greater. It didn't matter that he felt lesser, like he was steadily losing himself. It didn't matter that he was becoming fragments of what he once was. They'd promised him that he would become more than this. If he had to bear some indignities to reach that goal, he would do it, gladly.
Still, in the recesses of his mind, a tiny voice whispered that maybe, just maybe, he had been lied to.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 3:13 pm
[THE FINAL TASK, REMEMBERING DESMOND]
"I had that dream again..." A sonorous voice said. He is sitting in front of a mirror -- no, a window, polished so well that he could see his face and the mirror image of his brother sitting beside him. "The one where I was a merchant, and..."
"I've heard it plenty of times, ****." Desmond said with a roll of identical pink eyes. "I get it. I know you're only talking about it because you're going to segue into how it led you to Amityville. You got in. I know."
**** smirked, daintily raising a cup of tea to his lips. "Why, Desmond. Do I detect a hint of jealousy in your voice?"
"I detect a hint of nightshade in your tea."
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 8:52 pm
[ZONE 3: RECEIVED FOURTH BLESSING]The Voice. He had heard it somewhere before, he was certain of it. If the memory returned with Zephyros, perhaps he had a better idea? It would be in his best interests to speak to him, Sinclair decided.
Main Blessing obtained: Blessing of the Voice
Zone obtained: Zone 3
Link to blessing: JourneyEffects Your character remembers at the end of their TRAVEL thread if they are successful, a memory of someone who has been very close to them in the past.
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 1:12 pm
[ZONE 3: THE JOURNEY]
It was as if the Voice's speech was tailored for Sinclair. He listened, rapt, to its every word. Even restored to his true form, which he regarded as a reward in and of itself, he was still easily swayed by the promise of even greater prizes awaiting him. For Sinclair was different than the others. Sinclair was already great, and he intended to become even greater. "Yes, I shall go forth! I'm certain I'll continue to impress you!" He swore to the sky.
Alas, the view waiting for him was decidedly not impressive at all. He wrinkled his nose at the dilapidated shack and the sorry state of the animals. Compared to the opulent mansion in his memories and the throne where he saw the Great King, this was... disappointing.
Still, Sinclair intended to make the most of it. He chose the most impressive-looking mount of the set -- a sturdily-built steed -- and raced off into the sunset.
Even though it wasn't even close to sunset, really, but sunset would be much more fitting for his dramatic entrance.
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 1:13 pm
[ZONE 3: THE MEMORY]
"I believe we've reached our destination!" Sinclair announced, gracefully descending from his faithful mount. Up close, the castle looked impressive indeed. Even if he didn't have the Voice's and the Great King's promise of greatness to guide him, he was certain he would have been drawn forward past those gates by the sight of them alone. A man of his tastes was attracted to such finery...
And yet... distantly, he recalled a time when it was not extravagance that caught his interest, but simplicity. Singularity, he supposed would be a better term. He remembered electric blue eyes that flared with such emotion, sadness, anger -- passion, in a maelstrom, so intense it seemed to consume him.
In another world, those eyes were meant only for him. And yet, in time, that passion had dimmed. They often looked away from him, distant. Even in their most breathless moments they seemed to be fogged over with the thought of something... or perhaps someone else.
"Zephyros..." Sinclair murmured. That was the one with those wonderful eyes. Their courtship was brief, the intensity briefer still, and although Sinclair had been the one to release Zephyros to follow his heart's desire, he still found it a waste that someone with so much passion would pursue such an emotionless boy.
"But that is neither here nor there." Sinclair concluded. "Thank you for the memories."
As the memories of Zephyros returned, so too did the strange feeling that he had heard this 'Voice' somewhere before...
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 1:15 pm
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 1:16 pm
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 1:16 pm
[THE FINALE, PART TWO]
Sinclair didn't want to go back. Couldn't I just stay here? He thought desperately, closing the door from his sight. It was such a beautiful place, free from fear or regret... if he could stay here, he could pretend he won. That he truly was every bit as great as the Great King and his final Legacy promised him. Here, he felt safe; treasured, like a valuable part of the victory they had achieved together.
Here, he wasn't such a failure. With all his memories returned to him, he remembered all the failures and disappointments he was too proud and ignorant to acknowledge. Desmond was waiting for him, a symbol of everything he could not achieve: greatness, the love of his parents... even in that other world built upon the King's Legacy, he was but a plain, simple merchant whose only talent was adaptability -- and yet, he had failed utterly at nearly every task he attempted. With each time he revisited that grand kingdom in his dreams, it all seemed for naught. But perhaps this was the ending that journey was leading up to. When Excalibur appeared to him in a dream, he had jumped at the chance to be a hero and shine as he felt he deserved. Perhaps, subconsciously, he had remembered the Seven Kings, and gave up those memories and that fragmented world with the hope that he could save this one.
Perhaps the one thing he had won before this was Zephyros' affections... but even that was short-lived. He hadn't managed to hold onto them. He knew, deep down, that if he had clung to him, each day in his company would become more and more of a struggle, but it still felt like a personal failure to have let him go. Somehow, ridiculously, that hurt most. It was a victory stolen from him. What did that boy have that he didn't? Sinclair was amazing. He was beautiful, strong, and proud, and here, he was praised for it.
He didn't want to leave. He tore off his own legs to stop himself from approaching the door. Anything to leave behind his failures.
As soon as the memories were gone and locked away from him, he no longer hesitated. He was wonderful, after all. What reason did he have not to return to the crowds who cheered his name?
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