Welcome to Gaia! ::

Anger and bitterness remained even after Taima's body, worn out and unable to hold it together any longer, slowly and messily corroded on the battlefield. It would linger like a ghost until it had spent itself, regret binding it to the physical plane. She had hoped that with her final fit of pique would come a sense of catharsis, that she could finally experience some sort of inner tranquility and not feel the need to fight it back with darker things or hide it away from the world. Instead, all she had was the rage scorching pieces of her away, matching the physical pain blow for blow.

The Blue Kingdom of Protection: what a ******** joke. None of the people who had blindly pledged themselves to that shadow of a king wanted to protect anything more than their own interests, Taima included. All of their so-called leaders had stayed behind, more than willing to throw the fodder on the field so they could, what, ride in later and save the day? Because leading from behind was such a good idea.

It didn't matter. Taima didn't want their help anyway, had prided herself on not needing anyone to pull her to her feet after life knocked her down. She would never be the one to reach a hand up or offer one in return. She was the little bird who cut itself off from its flock and stubbornly stayed north to face the cold head-on rather than travel to safety and warmth for no other reason than to prove she could. That was the way she had wanted it since she had first learned that the right kind of pout could get her a meal, the right lie a place to stay as long as she needed to slowly clean it out and move on. It had been a game, at first, to see what she could get away with, to discover what was the right combination of words and actions could tug at a person's heartstrings. Like any game, it had eventually gotten boring, and so it escalated.

The first time Taima had ever destroyed a life by betraying another person's confidence had been breathlessly exhilarating, like freefall without the guarantee of a safety net. There had been an overwhelming sense of power, making all of her previous cons seem like child's play. She didn't even remember the circumstances, just the growing horror in her victim's eyes as realization dawned on them. She had felt like a goddess after that, unstoppable and all-powerful, and from then on, it was the only high she ever sought.

It all seemed so pointless and petty now. Had this really been all she had lived her life for? Her question to G echoed back to her now: didn't she ever want to do anything more with her life? Was she really just intending to move from con to con, playing whatever part was necessary at the time and burying herself a little deeper in the process? Who even was Taima? She wasn't sure she really knew anymore, and it was a little too late to be concerned with it now. She was just another casualty, in every sense of the word.

Then, a hissing whisper like static running along what was left of her fragile psyche: "Do you wish to know a secret?" All her life, Taima had known secrets. She didn't care anymore. She was so tired now, and all she wanted to do was find some semblance of peace in death.

"Sure, why not," she said anyway. As she did, colors seemed to coalesce in the void, blinding white on one side and fathomless black on the other. It was instinct to choose the darkness. It reached for her, and she shivered where it made contact. It seemed to hold her fast, making her an easy target for its judgment, insults like bullets going through what was left of her. Pitiful. Powerless. Imperfection.

Was this really Death? Because if so, Death was kind of an a*****e, and even she didn't deserve to have to deal with him for the rest of eternity. She pulled at the shadows that seemed to keep her in place, but looked down when she was prompted to. Beneath her was nothingness. Was that supposed to be a metaphor for her wasted potential? But no, as she continued to look, the space beneath her feet grew lighter until a picture started to form. A wave of vertigo hit her as the image suddenly came together with startling clarity. It seemed she was somehow looking up at someone who seemed to be above her. She wobbled dizzily, the shadows allowing her to fall to her knees (knees, she still had knees, maybe this Death wasn't such a jerk after all).

Taima watched what seemed to be a girl with wings soaring unselfconsciously in an overcast sky. The blue and gold patterns of her plumage seemed overly bright in this dark place, and though Taima wanted to shrink away from it, she found herself captivated. Although the features were similar, Taima's feathers had never been so brilliant. She didn't have those delicately curling horns, either, and if she had ever had such an identifiable mark as any of the ones adorning this bright reflection, she may as well just have saved herself the trouble and killed herself then. Even without the obvious differences, this couldn't have been a reflection of Taima: this girl appeared to be so relaxed as she rode the air currents with an ease that spoke of long practice, everything about her indicating a kind of contentment Taima could only imagine. This wasn't her, it couldn't be, but oh, how Taima wished it were possible. She would have done anything to experience even a moment of the perfect peace on the other girl's face.

The image faded as Taima reached towards it. She wanted to curl up and scream as that glimpse of utter tranquility faded away, but she no longer had it in her. Sometime between death and the glimpse of someone else's happiness, her anger had burned away to ashes, leaving her tired and hollow. Was this Hell? Was she going to spend the rest of eternity looking at the kind of happiness she had taken away from other people?

"You are they, but they are not you." That was the kindest, cruelest cut of them all, the very idea that she could have been something different, something better. Taima looked up, puzzled, as the pillar told her a harsher truth: that she was a part of that carefree girl after all, but somehow still not real.

"What do you mean?" Taima asked.

"You are a fake. You will die without ever existing."

Taima thought on that a moment, considering the implications that she existed not as a person, but as a fragment, a piece of that bright little bird. This small sliver of a person was all she was, all she had ever been allowed to be, the sum total of her potential exhausted when she had come into existence. It wasn't absolution for the pain she'd caused or the wrongs she'd done, but in a way, it was just good to know that she was only doing what she had been made to do. She had never stood a chance of being that happy girl, but that girl would never be Taima, either; she had a better chance of turning out right. She felt an overwhelming sense of relief, her lips curling into a grin as she pushed herself to her feet. "That's the best news I've heard all day."

((Exit to Blue Kingdom))

Concetta was here again. It was strange and enlightening but she could care less about the deeper meanings of anything. She'd gone back once to finish the job and now that it was done, she was content with that. As nothing but a memory, what else mattered than her own satisfation in the here and now?

Time to go. She flipped off the room, waving her middle fingers around into the nothingness.

"Bullshit." She muttered and reached for the pillars.

[CEE IS DED DED]

Gilly didn't understand what was being told to her. Not really. She figured death would be... more... full of noodles, and many noodle restaurants, and her family. But... not this.

She had touched the white pillar and it told her what she thinks Miss Riley was trying to tell her. Does this mean that she was saved, by being killed? Is she real now? or still some kind of shadow? Gilly sat down and patted her cheeks. She felt real to herself. But Xiu felt real too.

She sat there, not sure what to do with herself. She just wanted to make noodles. She wanted to protect her kingdom. She wanted to just see everyone's smiling faces. "I DON'T UNDERSTAND MR. PILLAR? what do I do... to get the things I want?" She shouted into the void. There was no answer... she just sat there.

Where was the real xiu? She started to wonder about Riley too. Was she okay? Was Riley real? or... also a shadow piece? How about the girl that killed her? Gilly wasn't sure what was going on, but she knew that the pillar was sending her back, if she wanted it. And she wanted to know if people were alright.

"It's okay if I'm just a shadow, or a fragment, or just a piece of some real me. I'm still the me that I am and I can do what I can with that." Gilly stood up, not sure how she felt about anything that was going on. But sure that she wanted to get people back to who or where they were supposed to be.

[exit]

"Jove. Don't be afraid! Elysian is a beautiful place, see? You'll be safe. It'll all be all right."


The small boy opened his eyes.

Was this... Elysian? He remembered the sound of his King's gentle voice telling him it would be okay. The smell of flowers and grass. A fresh breeze against his skin. The child's ears flicked, his tail swished. How... What had his King told him? Already the memory was fleeing. He tried to imagine his King's face, but even the sound of his voice was fading...

Rising to his feet, the child looked around. It was all so dark. Was this what he had wanted? What he had fought so hard for? Was this the fate that awaited those like him, who were small and powerless?

"Do you wish to know a secret?"

The voice was not his King's, but the small child approached it regardless. It was a white pillar... Was this Elysian? His unfamiliar ears turned forward, listening as the warm being spoke to him. He didn't understand. He wanted to tell the pillar, Elysian, that he couldn't understand, that he was just a pawn, he was just a hollow child...

The boy looked down. His hollow form as he had seen it from the start. So this was the truth, his husk of a body was only this after all. He felt calm acceptance, that the lack of self had been there all along... And then the mirror shifted and he saw himself again. Glowing with energy, the boy in the mirror was himself but... true. Pure. That child was meant to exist. He could see the determination in the eyes of his vibrant self, and understood even before the voice of Elysian spoke again. He was the fractured, tarnished reflection of this child. He was not real.

The more he looked on, the more he disappeared himself.

His life, memories only just regained. His life as a shepherd. Those rotten, grumpy sheep. His Ma and Pa, their smiles and their worries. The warmth of his cosy wooden cabin, the rough comfort of his sleeping pallet by the stove, the weight of the heavy wrought iron kettle. The fields and the forest and the ravine, and the berries he picked and the watery soup that had been his last meal. The boy he had died to save, and the rough man who's hands he had died at. The fall.

The child couldn't even whimper. It was fading. The wildflower garden in the heart of the misty, violet city, it's twisting streets and shadowed alleys. The kingdom of Purgatory. The empty box, tied with a bright ribbon. His small key. A gift for a gift. It was falling apart. It never existed, the tall hedges of the King's labyrinth, the long grass. The bog with waters up past his knees, and eyes everywhere amidst the decay. The crystalline flowers. The sting of their petals, the pain of just holding them, bringing them back to his King... His silence, his fight, his final death.

It was all going to disappear.

Pulled forward, he felt his body dissolving once again, painlessly, even as he walked towards the bright light. Elysian? He didn't understand. What was left for a hollow child such as himself? What possible favour could be granted to one who had lived twice already?

It must have been his time. The pillar was beginning to disappear, fading before his eyes. He felt weary with acceptance.

And then there was a tug.



((Jove is exiting~))

She had expected to be dead, so why was she still here?

Well, not here here, but she still existed. Which was odd. Maybe she was a ghost now? Hell yeah it was time to find the blasted voice and take out his reproductive organs. Beat him senseless for all the crap he had put everyone through (That's if it was a he. She was pretty sure it was a he...). Though as fun as that would be, she still had to figure out where the heck she was and how to get out of here.

Before her stood two pillars, one white and one black. She walked towards the white one, intrigued at it's mention of secrets. "Sure, I've got nothing better to do." Was her response. She listened intently to the story that was spun. It was strange, much like her own. No it WAS part of her story, or more importantly, she was a part of it. This grand scheme to elect a new king.

But when she was directed to look down she was faced with something even more bleak. It was herself, a hallow shell and nothing more. But the reflection changed again, showing her a glimpse of...someone? It was like her, but more...real. Not just a blank slate of white but of all colours. The reflection looked at her and she felt Ill. Shouldn't she be able to recall these images? She growled in her frustration to remember something, anything, but nothing came to her. Then pillar then gave her a answer as to why. Because she never had these memories to begin with. She was nothing, a mere plaything created by some higher being to act out some play, to die and to cease to exist. But the thing that clutched at her being was that she had never existed in the first place.

How did that even...She couldn't make any sense of it. She was here! She had be on the ship, and her friends, and...everything! How was that all fake?! It couldn't be, she just couldn't' except it! But deep within her heart she was beginning to accept this cold hard truth, and she felt herself fading away with the knowledge. The pillar would have nothing of that though, It's words alone compelling her to move closer. So she would have a second chance? To return to the other world to say goodbye?

This s**t was all so surreal, She struggled to comprehend it all. The more she thought about it the more she was coming to terms with it. So what if someone said she wasn't real? She still felt, still lived, still existed. She forced all the needless knowledge out of her head. She wasn't about to comprehend the meaning of life, that wasn't her shindig. All that mattered was getting back. She had to see the commander again, to once more fight by his side. To find Mitsu and defend her properly this time. She had to still be alive! All of them had to be!

Yes. While she was still able to, she was going to move forward. She would hold on to herself, even if it was for just a second longer.

[Exiting!

When the voice spoke again, a part of her wanted to resist the order, her chest aching at the knowledge that she was just an incomplete piece of someone else, of the real Xiu. However, she found that she couldn't resist, gritting her teeth as she obediently glanced down.

That gate--she recognized that gate. And beyond that, was that her other self? Her true self? The frown on her face deepened as she crouched down slightly, trying to get a better look. Where was she, and could she be saved?

She flinched at the mocking tone of the voice, straightening up and glancing around at her surroundings with a glare, searching for the source, for a physical body that housed the voice. From what it was telling her, if she wanted to save herself--the one that lay in a deep sleep somewhere--then she had no choice but to listen to whatever it was that this person wanted.

Once again, she was delegated to the role of someone's pawn.

But there wasn't anything else she could do. Everything she had done up until by her own free will had been pointless. By herself, she was worthless, but perhaps she would be of some use if she was given some kind of other job to fulfill. And if it meant being able to save herself, then maybe her existence wouldn't be so meaningless after all.

Revenge against the ones who created her. That sounded nice, actually. And along the way, perhaps she could strike out at some of the other fragments. Not to harm them, no, but to free them. They couldn't live in this dream forever. At some point, they would have to learn the truth like she did.

A quick glance down, and the hard look on her face relaxed slightly. There she was, her other self, and--oh. There were her frien--...no. Not her friends, but her other self's friends. Levi, Shun, Riley, Gene, Mot--they were all there among the others who had been created from the sleeping girl's memories.

She shut her eyes to calm herself, and when she opened them again, her expression was filled with a sharp determination. She had a goal now, a meaning to her life, and she would see it through to the end.

[ Exit ]

Sovngarde? Valhalla? Heaven?

No, this was none of those things. The many mixed beliefs of the people in the Kingdom of Creation had never mentioned an afterlife like this. A dull, eerie backdrop and two lone pillars, one light and one dark. The closest thing he could think of was the Human's purgatory...but he knew that it wasn't.

The afterlife had been a lie - no glory, no feasting and drinking, no eternal fighting. He felt hollow, robbed of his expectations and hopes. Almost like taking candy from a baby. What was the point of even fighting? To protect his Kingdom, right...?

The Kingdom he had a hard time remembering. He had gone on escapades with many a countryman - he was sure of it! - but when he tried to find the memories he couldn't. They weren't there - they never were there. His whole being was empty, hollow -

The White Pillar. He reached out to it, seeking some sort of guidance. If this was an afterlife, the white had to be the divine, yes? He at least had that small bit to cling to, for now. He felt protection from the white pillar, a heat spreading over his body in the light of it.

The pillar spoke and told of a story, one that was not so well known. He knew of the first King, but hadn't a clue about the throne, or the corruption that spread. It instructed him to look at his shadow, and Alexei did.

To find images he was not prepared for. Another man - no, the same man? A man that looked like him - was him - in a strange set of clothing. He was laughing, dancing,drinking. All the things that Alexei the Nord did - but he had more finesse. The man in the mirror had charm, poise, grace, and a quicker and more silver tongue. The people he spoke to and interacted with...he'd never seen them, but felt as though he should know them.

One scene - the other man sitting on a bed with a smaller woman, her dirty blonde hair done up in a braid - got to him particularly. His lookalike was reading to the smaller woman, and they were both smiling. Were they a couple? Why didn't he know - he felt like he should have known. Yet it was all hollow, just like every other thing he tried to recall.

"You are they. But they are not you. You were created from them, a fragment. You were created as a perfect puppet to orchestrate a perfect play. You were created to break, because you are not real."

A furrowed brow and a protest that fell before it reached his lips. He knew it to be true, now. That explained the hollow, empty feeling.

He began to fade, the not Alexei. He stared at the ambient space around him, a deep frown pulling at his lips. So, he - nor any of the others - were real. Just fragments, shadows of other people.

The Pillar spoke again, telling him that it wasn't over. Even fragments deserved to have some kind of end - a good end.

With the promise of being ended in a good way, Alexei's smile returned - though more serious than it had ever been. He knew his purpose now - reveal the truth to the others. He doubted they would listen to his words alone, though.

He would have to send his old allies to this place.

((EXIT))

As his very essence splintered, miasma leaking out of him and leaving nothing but agonizing, blazing pain in its wake, Aedan felt no regrets for his actions--he'd died serving his Kingdom, and the Emperor, who had given him both a sense of pride, and something worth fighting for. However, he felt a deep, agonizing sense of failure, almost (but not quite) as painful as the dismantling of all he was, bit by agonizing bit. It was one thing to give up one's life for the greater good, but one could wish that one had accomplished more with it, when that time came.

If only he'd practiced harder, if only he'd paid more attention...if only he'd been something more than just himself, perhaps he could have done more. And yet, he remembered just how many had fallen, how many even from his own Kingdom--others who he may not have known well, but who he'd bumped into, occasionally exchanged smiles with...so many gone. It had been...not easy, but necessary to ignore, or push that price from his mind on the field of battle, but now, as the pain wracked him viciously, his thoughts tumbled over themselves, reminding him of all the pain, the sadness...the regret, flashes of memory to torment him further.

He had no body, that he could tell, and yet the sensation of being pulled in a million different directions, to the breaking point, intensified. He had no mouth to scream, no form to contort in a vain attempt at alleviating it.

And then, with one more agonizing wrench, it was...over.

He touched his chest, puzzled. He felt...born anew, his body undamaged, although he couldn't help but wonder if his mind would ever be the same. And he was wearing...much simpler, and one might argue, less attractive clothing. It was dull and nondescript--but beggars couldn't be choosers.

And then...the voice spoke. And he could feel his heart, his very pride and sense of identity, crashing upon the rocks of the reality he was now having to face. He was...a shadow? A puppet, some sort of unreal toy?! How was it possible? He felt, he knew he did. And yet, he could see this...other him, and he looked so much more...solid, so much more alive, so much more...

real.

And yet, his own life, with its...fake, he supposed, trials and tribulations, felt real enough to him. To know that it meant nothing, nothing at all, was almost heartbreaking. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he listened closely as the voice continued. He was being given a little more time, another possibly-brief chance to bid all he'd known one final farewell before fading without a trace?

...He'd take it. What was life for anyone, if not a series of events that shaped them, that they remembered, and responded to--he might not be 'real' in this other world, but in his own world, he would savour what time he had left.

And yet...he felt no draw to go home, or at least, to the Kingdom he'd called home. Instead, he felt an irresistible tug, pulling him, one step at a time, toward a certain silver tower...

[[Exiting to the Tower of the Voice]]