To say that Rex was confused would have been an understatement. Only a moment before he had been on the battlefield, sinking his teeth into any and everything, fighting against what he did not know in a world that was collapsing around him. Now he was...where was he? In an instant he had gone from 'the sky is falling!' to 'what the hell?!'.
In was in this confusion that he had not seen the pillars, instead stalking around on two legs, sniffing about, searching and perhaps hoping to find something he could eat, something to bite!
It was a search that ended quickly, a voice suddenly breaking through his instinctive thoughts, a voice that eared a roar and the hiss of bared jaws. A secret? Why would he care about a stupid secret! What he cared was that he had finally found something to bite! Snarling, he lunged forward, latching his jaws around the black pillar.
Rex paid no attention as it spoke, he did not care what it had to say. It did not matter! All he wanted was to sink his teeth into whatever had caused this, whatever had shaken and destroyed his world, not once but -three- times. Confusion had turned to anger, to rage, to a dangerous bloodlust.
Even when he saw his shadow, the shadow that was not a shadow, but something else, something he did not understand, even that did not stay his anger, though perhaps it did cease his assault on the pillar. He roared, the reflection roared as well, that was him, he knew it was him you stupid pillar! But...it wasn't him? There was something different, though what he did not know.
An ear piercing roar, his tail lashed about. Where was he? What was he supposed to do now?!
The tower...he would go there, and he would find who was responsible for this, and he WOULD BITE ITS HEAD OFF!
[EXIT to tower]
Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 5:25 pm
He has lived and breathed grief for as long as he can remember.
It starts with his home planet, a gas giant filled with swirling hydrogen and helium. Somewhere at the very center is a molten core or so he hears, because it has been centuries since anyone has gone to the center and returned alive. His kind are composed completely of gas, spinning clouds of green or yellow or blue that become one with the thin atmosphere. How they gained sentience he cannot remember as it was a story passed down long ago from generation to generation until eventually words ceased to exist altogether—the Vayperis, people called them.
There is no language on his planet. Only images and feelings transferred through the electrons that make up their gaseous bodies. Nor is there anything to do because almost nothing is solid. There is only an endless supply of vapor that cannot be contained, stretching outwards until everything touched everything and mixed together. Wilson was the Mind and the Mind was him. He was just a giant swirling cloud of green that did nothing but receive vague images and feelings and stories, but above all he remembers the sensation of drowning in grief. He cannot remember where the sentiment originated from. He only knows it permeated the Mind’s entire existed, polluted the simple airgasheads of its kind. But it was a comforting emotion. How anyone could find grief comforting was something beyond most, but he has lived grief since birth. For the longest time, grief was to him what happiness was to others.
Then he takes his breath for the first time when he was the Vayperis equivalent of fifteen. Someone has collected every part of him from the gas giant—all 63 kilograms of him. His shape was different, forced into something solid by a strange device. He could feel it in his cybernetic eyes—eyes? Someone pumps him full of information. Images flash through his head, scenes portraying fights and flying vehicles and how to fix this and how to patch up that. There is a lingering message in his head. He is only there to be one of many mechanics this ship will need. Welcome aboard, Wilson Hopkins.
A slap on the back sends him into the spacious tunnels, lit up with warm white. There is a name emblazoned on this particular. He wonders if it is the main one.
Feirg. Grief.
Years are spent mostly holed up in the bottom floor with the engines. There is something comforting about its darkness and the warm steam that occasionally fills the engine room. His head is still clogged up with chlorine gas—chlorine because his gas gleams yellow-green and burns lungs from the inside—but he learns thoroughly and quickly. What once was an airheaded Vayperis becomes a deft mechanic inexperienced with social norms.
He learns of things like happiness and anger by watching the others. Sometimes he can even feel the emotions trickling through him; the tiny flare of frustration or the sparkling bubbles of joy, the slow ticking of boredom or the winding maze of confusion. Foreign sensations that are bright and colorful and tantalizing like candy in a candy store. But none can compare to the solace that grief offers him. It wraps him in a cocoon as he spirals downward into a dark abyss.
But he doesn’t know true happiness until he meets Emmaline Grant. The mere mention of her name still makes him sigh happily; the heavy weights on his frail body lighten from the mere joy she gives him even now. He can remember the particular shade of purple that colors her irises and the dark locks of her short hair. Her smile, timid as it can be, is enough to light up his world. She teaches him what it means to love and truly care for others. He realizes what a beautiful range of emotions he has been endowed with. He never wants to go back.
But he has lived and breathed grief for so long. Each smile, each spark of hope plunges him deeper into his prison wracked with grief because positive emotion only exacerbates his forgotten tears and silent sobs. But still he trudges on.
A love for others gives him dedication. Dedication gives him respect. Respect gives him the title of commander, but all at a price because grief follows the Vayperis wherever he goes.
Bad news strikes him in the form of Elliot’s hook punch to his face. It sends him crashing into the walls, metallic and reverberating from his impact. He can still hear the man screaming at him. It’s your fault. If you hadn’t been paying so much damn attention to your fancy new title, Emma wouldn’t have— The words still sting, a wound that will never heal. It’s too much for Wilson to visit her bedside, but he forces himself to send her text messages once in a while. Sometimes he wonders if she thinks about him every day like how he thinks about her every day.
Another blow is dealt when his ship falls out of the heavens. His heart is beating frantically when his ship rocks violently as it rips through the atmosphere. Different rooms inside the ship pop up all over the main screen and his heart is torn when he sees the fire consuming the engine room, the people yelling throughout the vessel. Failure and disappointment screams throughout his veins and for a moment he can feel his body coming undone. Something swirls behind his eyes, almost like gas. Wilson tries to grip the seat as the ship lands, but his hands grasp nothing. They’re only deadly chlorine gas and he struggles to rein it in. He falls to the floor.
Failure and grief follows him wherever he goes. From the gas giant Vayperis to Emmaline’s bedside to his irreparable ship; to his ranked’s betrayals to Ellito’s death and Bix’s death to his own demise. There is only so much failure and mistakes he could take before he begins to break and crumble into pieces. The fake king’s words still ring in his ears as Bix’s death replays over and over. Slowly, he wonders. Somehow, he begins to question his own memories. Were they even his? Because the more he plays them, the hollow-er he feels. The details were so clear, yet so fake, like he was watching a movie.
Do you wish to know a secret?
Wilson looks up at the dual pillars, one black and one white. Opposites. He feels close to the white pillar, for he himself is the White King. He steps toward it and listens patiently. Wilson presses his lips together, unlike some there is no onslaught of emotions. For once, he keeps his emotions controlled as he takes in the revelation slowly. His face remains blank when he looks down at his shadow, only to realize that it is he who is the shady fake. It’s so surreal to see his counterpart move around. He has the backwards walk. The dimples. That glowing, friendly smile, but now he seems so much happier than the king.
He envied the other Wilson for being so much happier than himself, but it seemed fitting for him to fade away when the other was happier, undoubtedly stronger than he was for surviving this far. Yet the pillar called out to him one last time. He obeys, walking toward the pillar with a somber expression.
“A final goodbye,” he echoes. Wilson considers the offer carefully. “Yes, I think I would like that very much. Thank you.”
Zoobey
Syusaki
Offline
Abe no Mizuki
Lonely Dragon
Offline
Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 5:29 pm
After spending some time in limbo, Blake made up his mind. To heck with it. I ain't gonna fight in some stupid battle if it ain't real. Pointless. Waste o' time. With a glance at the Pillars, he turned around and walked away, neither to the battlefield nor to his kingdom. No, he was following the Voice and going to this mysterious tower. Someone had some explaining to do...
(( Exiting! ))
Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 5:35 pm
He was falling.
No. He was dying. Was he... angry? Frustrated? Upset? He didn't know anymore. He was fighting... fighting for his king, fighting for his fallen kingdom, fighting for revenge. But... why? What was he avenging? What was he fighting for?
He didn't know anymore.
As everything around him faded to nothing, two objects stood erect in the void. Two... pillars. Black... and white?
"Do you wish to know a secret?"
A... secret? Would that explain why he was here? Why he was fighting so hard? He was so lost, so confused.
"Y-yes..." Even his voice sounded foreign.
Knowing nothing but darkness, he opted for the black pillar. Power... revenge... familiar emotions. Yes, that was what he wanted, that was what he sought.
When the pillar spoke, he winced, words cutting deep, but... it was all true. In the end... what did he really do? He hadn't gotten enough miasma for the kingdom, leading it to fall, and even in the battlefield, he was felled by another. How pathetic. How useless. How could he serve his king this way?
Hands formed into fists, and he grit his teeth, staring at the ground. As the pillar continued to speak, frustration turned to confusion. Creation... of a creation? Great... king? Wait... what?
Lifting his head, he stared at the pillar, incredulous. A creation of... pride? The gold kingdom? What in the world was it talking about? "My... shadow?" How was it possible for a shadow to have a-
He looked down to see an image of himself, a reflection of what he was. A shadow. A member of the black kingdom. A dark herald. But then the reflection rippled, revealing colours. Teal, purple, black, silver, white.
The figure who was him, yet not him, was moving, speaking. When they turned, dark amethyst eyes pierced through him, and he gasped, feeling a cold chill run through him. This feeling... what was... A hand was placed over his chest, where his heart should have been, but there was no sound, no heartbeat. No warmth. He felt so hollow inside.
"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."
Not... real? A fragment? Puppet? Just... what was it talking about?
"I... don't understand..."
So... everything was just a ruse? A guise? Everything he was fighting for, everything he was... was just... a lie?
He let out a roar, mingled with fury, betrayal, confusion. Was this a JOKE? Was the Voice just... toying with them all? That they were just... just... mere puppets... toys for some higher being that acted like some spoiler little brat with nothing better to do with their spare time? And now, because they were bored, they were going to discard them, cast aside like garbage?! Needless to say, this didn't sit well with him.
"Come now, do you really think that is your end? Do you know how long I have waited for someone to actually converse with me? "
What, now they were bored and wanted someone to talk to? What. The. Hell.
"Pride is not my calling, but I will not deny myself a little bit of indulgence. Come a little closer, and I shall grant you a small favour. Call it a whim."
No. He wanted to tell the pillar it could go shove it, and wanted to walk away, but somehow, he couldn't. Against his better judgement, he took a step forward, darkness engulfing him.
"You haven't finished your role, not quite yet. Why don't you go back, say a final goodbye, just this once?"
Goodbye... to who? Even in his kingdom, he made no friendships, no connections. He existed solely to serve the king.
"Once you have said goodbye, then I will come back to claim you, and the last of your memory will fade with your existence."
There was nothing to say, no words to convey how he felt right now. The last he saw was the pillar fading away, and he huffed. Good riddance.
"Jason? Jason! Stay with me man, you gotta keep awake!"
Even as Zanthvos said these words, both himself and Jason knew it was impossible. For whatever reason, they were both dying. He was using the last vestiges of his power to keep Zanthvos summoned. Jason didn't want to be alone in this god forsaken land of death and despair. Weakly he clutched at Zanth's shirt, the other holding him close and giving him a sense of warmth and comfort. Yes, though a summoned humanoid he was, Zanthvos was still his closest friend.
As a small child, he had had few friends, preferring to keep his company to books rather then people. Though there were times he had felt very lonely, and it was this loneliness that lead to his research in magic. Having heard of human servants, he had studied hard to learn the magical words that would allow him to summon his own. And on that one day, after many hours of memorizing and prep work, he had summoned Zanthvos,. A small child like himself, he looked around bleary eyed and wondering what the hell was going on, only to see a bright eyed blonde beaming at him with a large happy smile.
"Hello! My names Jason! Will you be my friend?"
It took a moment for him to respond, considering he had just been called into existence, but he soon mimicked Jason smile and nodded. "Sure, though could you tell me what my name is?"
"Ummm..." Jason appeared confused, he hadn't thought that far ahead. "I know! I'll call you Zanthvos!"
"Zanthvos? What kind of name is that? It sounds kind of weird."
"Really?" He looked crestfallen. "I though it sounded cool..."
The black haired boy just laughed. "It's alright. You can call me whatever you want. Zanthvos it is then."
At first he could only do it for a few minutes each day. But as time went on he was able to summon the humanoid for longer periods, and soon enough he was spending hours with his humanoid, playing till his hearts content and reveling in the fact he now had someone to share his time with. Zanth was even interested in books, reading some of the ones Jason had read and asking questions about the characters.
As time when on and Jason grew older, his studies took him deeper into the arts of magic. He soon found a love for the healing arts, and with his humanoids help he was able to start up a small clinic, a place where he could assist others who were hurt and injured. It was a simple life, but he cherished it so. He was able to read as much as wanted, and apply what he learnt in the service of others. But the thing he cherished most was the time he had spent with his friend, who was always there to encourage him and share with him the best times and the worst.
All this, was now coming to a end.
"Zanthvos....I'm sorry.....I can't hold on...."
Though as the last of his strength began to fail, his vision going dark, he could still feel the other was close, could feel him lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips as he began to dissolve into nothingness.
However, the strange part came when Jason found himself conscious once more. He was standing even, looking at a pair of pillars. With no idea what was going on, he moved towards the white pillar, and it divulged in him a painful secret which sucked the breath out of his body.
He was a fragment of someone else.
He looked down at the reflection, shocked at what he was witnessing. It was him, but he was so...different. What were these clothes, these colors? He couldn't understand what was happening, It hurt to watch this individual whom he could not remember, nor had any connection to. Though what hurt him even more was the fact that he was alone. Only him and the pillars were here and no one else. Not even his friend. Jason clutched as his heart as he began to disappear, wanting to join Zanth in death but being afraid at the same time, he was so afraid to die, to not exist and to know when he was gone there would be nothing left of him to mark his passing.
The pillar was the one thing that brought him back to some sense of reason. It spoke to him of a another chance, to go back and bid farewell to the world he knew for the last time before he ceased to exist. Jason wasn't ready to die, so with a heavy heart he took the chance, felt the tug as he was pulled back in reality. A reality where he would be utterly alone, for he had no way to summon Zanthos. It looked like his friend was gone for good.
And eventually too, he would follow.
Exiting!
Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 5:50 pm
"Dead again."
Senga let out a frustrated growl and whipped around, his tiny body arching to avoid the practice sword that touched the side of his neck. "This isn't fair!" He cried, pushing his tiny hands into the muscle of his father's hard abdomen. "You're ten times bigger than me!"
The man let out a deep chuckle, swinging the sword away from his son and dropping it to the ground. Kneeling, he placed his heavy hands on the shoulder of the little boy, ruffling his tawny hair gently. "Quiet now." He murmured. "Size isn't an issue in battle unless you let it be." He tilted Senga's defiant chin up. "Do you understand? You can win, even if you stop growing right now and stay this height forever. You just have to learn how."
The tawny haired child looked up, alarmed. "But I'm not, right?" His voice turned shrill. "I won't stay this short forever, will I?"
His father pushed himself back to his own impressive height, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger in thought. "Hmm." Reaching down, the swords master touched his hand to Senga's own head. "I don't know. When was the last time you checked your height with your mother? You haven't grown in some time... maybe it's possible that you'll be my midget son forever."
"No!" Senga jumped and seized his father's hand between his own tiny fingers, the toy sword dropping to the ground at his feet. With a tug that seemed almost too strong for a child so small, he brought his father with a laugh down to one knee. "I am going to grow right? Right? I have to, it wouldn't be fair to be shorter than Jay for my entire life! She already makes fun of me as it is."
His father laughed, a deep-bellied sound. "I jest, I jest. And she only teases you because you are too infatuated with her to make her stop. Come now," He swept his son up into his arms and stood, stepping out of the training room with a long, lion-like gait. "Let's go and see your mother, shall we? She'll tell you how tall you'll grow."
Not entirely trusting his father's words anymore, Senga writhed and settled in his new perch, staring at the world outside from his vantage point. "One day I'll be bigger than you." He finally said determinedly.
His father just laughed. "I will believe it when I see it. And Senga - "
"Hm?"
"How many times did I kill you today?"
Senga frowned, recounting the numbers in his head. "Seventy-four times."
"And how many times did you kill me?"
The boy colored visibly. "Once." He muttered into his father's tawny locks. The man chuckled, stepping through the crowds with the ease of a man completely in control. Senga envied him if he was going to be perfectly honest with himself. But he also looked up to him, in the way that one always looked up to their father at first. When they got home, he immediately begged his mother to see if he'd grown taller, and she argued with him over dinner about the long-term effects of relentlessly teasing his only son. Senga spent his time chasing Iyari around the house with toy swords, the two siblings fighting until dinner was called, and even long after that.
When their parents finally wrangled them into bed, Senga peered at his father from the doorway, and the man seemed to notice, because he waited patiently for his son to form words before he left.
"One day," Senga said drowsily, as the flickering candles were doused and the room was shrouded in darkness, "one day I'll win."
His father chuckled quietly, closing the door.
"I'm sure you will."
♚xxxx♚xxxx♚
"Twenty-four to twenty-two. I win." Senga grinned proudly down at his father, the sword touching against the older man's neck. He was tall now, shoulder and shoulder with his own parent and taller than his mother by far. His tawny hair was cropped short and brushed to one side, the scars a sign of many battles, speaking of both victory and loss. He now wore a sword belt of his own, and his tiny body had grown lean and muscled, strong and powerful. But where his father was broad-shouldered and held the air of a lion, Senga was slim and quick, a darting tawny blur, like that of a wolf.
"That you did. Today." Senga's father laughed, gripping the offered hand and hauling himself to his feet. The man's own hair had faded white, but his keen, bright golden eyes were still ever-watchful, and his abilities had not faded with the years of age. "Don't get too cocky though." He muttered affectionately, cuffing Senga lightly over the head. The wolfish young adult growled in return, sheathing his sword and tilting his head up in mock-defiance. "You'd better keep your head cool in battle, lest you want to lose an eyeball next time." His father flicked a finger against the scar that travelled vertically over his left eye.
"Minor details." Senga batted away the hand and smiled at his father. "Don't worry," He continued when the man looked mildly concerned, "if I don't keep a level head all the time outside of this room, I run the risk of letting Jay run herself into a misplaced wall, and I can't have that happening now, can I?"
His father sighed. "No, no you cannot." He rubbed his forehead. "Are you meeting her today?"
Senga pondered this, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the hilt of his sword. "Probably." He responded at length. "If she'll have me. I have to meet Iyari first. My dearest sister - " His tone turned wry, "finally returning home, and the first thing she does is run off and sharpen her weapons instead of saying hello. I'll bring her by for dinner though, if I can pull her from her training and her weaponry long enough to convince her that there is still something called family in Eldric."
"Gods," His father said, rubbing the back of his head as they exited the building and turned up the cobblestone street, "I pity the man that fancies your sister. She'll be as dense as a brick to any who attempt to court her with anything but knives and promises of a brawl."
"Ha." Senga smiled at the man, patting him firmly on the shoulder. "Don't look so depressed. It's not as though you want grandchildren in your old age, do you?"
The white-haired man looked amused by this statement, and glanced at his youngest son. "Well, if I one day have blue-haired jabbering grandchildren running amuck in my training rooms, I will know who to blame."
Senga colored immediately, his face going beat red. "That is - " He stuttered, fumbling into a nearby pedestrian by accident as his father's laughter rose soundly in the background, "You are - a horrible father - " He gasped, dodging in and out of the pile-up his clumsy feet had suddenly created. "She doesn't even know I - and anyways she probably wouldn't even - I don't know what my mother sees in you!"
They argued all the way down the street, but the conversation dissolved into static and a white roar of nothing and everything all at once. And as they did, the streets bled out and the lines that held up the memory disappeared, until the colors pooled together into a murky haze, dissolving into darkness, and nothing but the echo of a distant life that seemed almost hollow. Only a few words remained here and there, the feeling of pride and love etched vaguely into what was left.
"Twenty-four to twenty-two," Senga's own voice echoed into the darkness, but it was far away, and it wasn't important anymore, "I win."
♚xxxx♚xxxx♚
Senga stood in the spaces between here and there,existence and nothingness. His body felt empty, like someone had carved into it and taken all of the important things out. He was weightless, drifting, and yet when he opened his eyes and saw the pillars, he felt himself grow heavy again. As though he were being given just enough weight in this space to exist - to be something more than just a fragmented conscience. His fingers reach out, brushing the base of the black pillar and listening with bare interest as its voice booms out, filling the cavities of endless black with noise. Somehow the shock had left his body; he could only feel the distant ache of surprise at being called a fake, and when he looked down at the mirror at his feet, he realized that there were some conversations, some moments that he wished would never happen.
The reflection in the mirror was vibrant; an intoxicating sight. Compared to it - to him - he felt a shadow. A dull, dilapidated version of his replica below. Where they moved with the same wolf-like grace, this one had more power in his steps, more meaning, more purpose. His existence was whole, he did not question himself. There was not a hollowness in his body. He was real. He wasn't a shell, wasn't a piece of a whole. Senga bent at the knee and touched mirror, and his reflection mirrored his movements and did the same. But when they smiled, one was simply fragmented; a mechanical gesture, a programed response written into an artificial body to make it work correctly. But the man in the mirror; the young adult that smiled back... there was actual happiness in his expression. A light in his eyes that detailed his true vibrant existence, unquestionable and unchallenged.
The fragment exhaled a sigh and stood again, turning back to the pillar as it spoke again to him.
One last favor? A final goodbye?
His eyes half-lidded.
So be it.
He looked down at the reflection one last time, at the vibrance and the grace with which his creator held.
"This time," He said quietly, "I'll win."
[ exiting ]
keiifuu
Offline
Grifferie
Crew
Deus Sherry
Offline
Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 5:51 pm
She was done. Dead and gone. But for what? For a minute, she didn’t know. An image flashed in her mind, and she did remember. The Gatekeeper. She’d fought for him, because he asked her to. Right. Her King had asked them to fight. She smiled, remembering his overwhelming faith in them. He had cared so much, and she hadn’t even thought twice about it. She was willing to die for him. That was funny. She had already been dead. She remembered that. Dead, and living in the Violet afterlife, hunting her memories and moving towards Elysian. She had…she had…
Broken images flashed through her mind. Barrels, grapes, the scent of a cellar. She saw faces. Her brother, her mother, her…who was that? She couldn’t remember. Sherry tried to focus, but black began to creep in on the edges of her vision. Details began to fade. Everything seemed so distant. Even the memories of her life after death seemed dark. She remembered the King, though. The gathering, the boxes he’d given them. Hadn’t there been talk of gifts? Yes. Gifts inside of themselves? That was it, wasn’t it? Surely she was remembering it correctly. Gifts they could use to the help fight. Fight for the kingdom, for the King. She’d agreed to do that. She thought she remembered…
Something caught her attention. How had she missed those? There was no way to not see them. Cautiously, Sherry turned her attention to the two pillars that rose before her. One dark, and one light. As she stared at them, her memories of the life after-life faded even further, though the Violet had yet to fade.
A voice floated to her ears. “Hmm?” Sherry turned, searching for the source, but saw no one. It was just her and the pillars. She was skeptical, of what she didn’t know, but took a step towards the lighter of the pillars. White. The paleness reminded her of the Violet kingdom, of when she’d been without color. That was odd. That she’d been without color, or no. No it was normal. She shook her head and pushed the idle thought from her mind. She needed to focus.
It was easy enough in the light coming from the white pillar. If felt…nice. Calm, protecting, warm. Almost like what she’d felt in her Violet home, but…different. Different and—Sherry blinked when the Pillar began to speak. The surprise she felt vanished in an instant, though, and she couldn’t even remember why she’d felt it. Of course the pillar could talk. Why wouldn’t it?
Her head tilted slightly as she listed to the story. Somehow…something made sense. She didn’t quite know what. She thought she remembered people talking about false kings and true kings. No. She knew she remembered that. Images of fights flashed through her mind. Talk of False kings and of battle. Could that be…
“A sad ending?” Sherry repeated when she realized the pillar had paused. She looked down as it had instructed. What she saw there made her gasp. It was…familiar. The colors were all wrong. There were too many, and they were too bright and just not right. And it…it was missing things. Her claws, her tail….wait. She, she didn’t have those. What was… The eyes. They turned to her and Sherry shuddered. She had no idea why but… “What do you mean?” She looked to the pillar. Created from them? For a play? Just a fragment meant to break? “What?” Her head hurt. “I don’t understand.”
The pillar was blunt about it. So very blunt. Sherry looked down again, but the image had faded. Much like the memories of her life. Much like herself. That was it, wasn’t it? She was fading. But she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to fade. It couldn’t be true could it? She remembered. She’d lived in the Violet kingdom where the Gatekeeper loved them. She remembered waking up, finding her first memory, the key her King had given her, she remembered—It all felt so far away. So far away, and…
The pillar spoke again. Sherry looked at it. A favour? She took a slow step forward, then another, and another. The light grew, nearly blinding her. The pillar was still talking. Sherry found herself nodding. That sounded nice. She wasn’t ready to go. A goodbye would nice. She didn’t want to say goodbye, but it was better than fading away like her memories. “I’d like that.”
The light was so very bright, but she could still see the pillar. It was there, the source of the light. The source…and yet the pillar was fading. Fading and taking the light, though traces of hit stayed in her vision. Something pulled at her, inside and out, as emotional as it was physical and then, she woke up.
Which didn’t make much sense seeing as she hadn’t been sleeping. But…she had been dead, hadn’t she. Dead. Again.
Things were different this time. She wasn’t sure how, not entirely. But something nagged at her. Things were different.
[[Exit to the Tower]]
Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 6:00 pm
Tears were streaming down her face.
Guilt, remorse, shame. She had let down her kingdom. First silver, now green. Why was she so weak? Why couldn't she protect the things she loved? Would she always be like this, forever?
The girl continued to quietly weep, when a voice spoke out to her. "Do you wish to know a secret?"
Two pillars appeared before her, one black, one white. Pulling herself off the ground, she wiped her tears away, hiccuping slightly.
"What kind... of secret?" The voice was silent, pillars beckoning. On instinct, she stepped towards the white pillar.
As the pillar spoke, she listened silently to the tale with rapt attention, soaking in every word. A once great king, a legacy... She suddenly remembered the cavern under the silver kingdom, and how the chalice spoke of seven items. Was this what...
A gasp escaped her lips when she heard one of the items. The item of pride... She tried her best to remember. The... throne. So it was seeking a new... king?
Eyes widened. Stole... candidates... fragments? What did this all mean?
When told to look at her shoulder, she couldn't help but obey, a gasp escaping her lips.. Was that... was that... her? The girl was laughing, other figures around her, and she clung to one, chattering away happily. Why did it feel like she... knew this person? No, wait, wasn't this... her? It was just her reflection, just-
The girl turned, still smiling, red-orange eyes focused on her, seeming to stare at her, or... straight through her. A chill ran down her spine, and blank memories ran through her mind.
"M... Mami? Pa... Papi?" Such strange words.
"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."
Not... real? Destroy? No! She didn't want to destroy! She wanted to save, to protect. She didn't want the silver kingdom to fall, nor the black... she wanted to protect the green kingdom from the same fate.
"N-no... you're wrong, I'm... I'm..." Her gaze was cast downward, tears trickling down her face again. "I... I don't understand..."
"Shadow, fragment, replica. You are a fake. Your existence was artificially created, and thus, artificially taken from you. You will die without ever existing."
No... N-no... she didn't want to die. She wanted to live... she wanted to see her friends again, she wanted to go back to Om, to see the kind king's face again.
"I... I do exist... please... don't..." Tears were falling faster, dripping from her face, splashing into nothingness. "P-please... I don't want to die, I'm... I'm scared, please..."
She crumbled to the ground, arms wrapped around herself. Death was scary... so scary. Even though she offered to sacrifice herself to prevent the green king from having to fight, she was... terrified. But... if her death could protect others, prevent more strife, then... it wasn't so bad, right? If people didn't have to suffer anymore, then... she wouldn't mind... she wouldn't-
The sobs were louder. "I... I don't want to dieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" she wailed. Coward. Such a coward.
""Come now, do you really think that is your end? Do you know how long I have waited for someone to actually converse with me?"
The sniffles started to quiet down, and she looked up at the pillar once more.
"Pride is not my calling, but I will not deny myself a little bit of indulgence. Come a little closer, and I shall grant you a small favour. Call it a whim."
A... favour? She wasn't sure what it was, or if she liked it, but... after everything that happened, after being lied to, after finding out she was nothing but a copy, a fake... maybe death really wouldn't be so bad... Maybe she would finally wake up form this nightmare...
"You haven't finished your role, not quite yet. Why don't you go back, say a final goodbye, just this once?"
She rubbed her eyes. Molan, the green kingdom, the green king... she wanted to thank them all, for helping her, for protecting her... for guiding her.
"Once you have said goodbye, then I will come back to claim you, and the last of your memory will fade with your existence"
"Yes... I will say... goodbye..."
Even fragments deserve their own piece of reality. When the time comes, when Pride's throne finally breaks, then consider the favour returned in full. Really, it's much more entertaining this way."
The pillars began to fade. She felt a tug... Everything went black.
"softly you walk through valleys. softly you live your life..."
She could hear the words clearly as they lowered her casket, she had died. But that was so long ago, putting her hand up the memory shifted and glimmered, the one memory she could never face in her kingdom and now. Now that she had fallen in battle she was forced to face it.
"No please..."
She whimpered softly as she looked around. She couldn't bare to face her death not again. Closing her eyes she wished it could all just vanish, when she awoke the first time she had found herself in the violet kingdom. She had felt no pain no worry she was content and she felt safe. The king had made her feel these things, and now...now she died again. She was a failure to her king. Opening her eyes she realized the memories she was fighting so hard to repress morphed to two pillars.
Her eyes flicked between the black and the white one. Something drew her to the black one,
"Do you wish to know a secret?"
"A Secret? Yes Yes I want to know your secret!"
She screamed as she rushed forward to the black pillar. Her eyes still dry despite all that had happened started to well as she looked at the pillar, yes she was worthless. But she wasn't a figment...no she was real she had died once...but she was still the same girl. Turning to look at her shadow like the pillar had comment. She blinked a few times until the mirror came in to view. Looking at it she watched a figure move through the mist. No this wasn't right, looking back at the pillar.
"I...I don't understand...I..I have a life...I had...a family that mourned over my de...death."
She felt the darkness overcoming her, this wasn't her end. She would still serve a purpose.
[[Exit to tower]]
Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 6:15 pm
First there was chaos, and then silence. She was somewhere unfamiliar, and she was sure that she had died. So why was she still conscious? It was a strange form of consciousness but she was aware none the less. Then a voice spoke, and her confused silence was broken. She listened carefully to that of the light, and while it was a nice story, what followed wasn't.
"I'm not...real? But I must be, I've had a life and created bonds." She knelt and touched the surface lightly with her finger tips. This person on the other side looked how she would if she were vibrant and beautiful, but how could she feel so empty? Was this all true? She began to tear up as she truly thought about her existence. She really was fake. It was all a lie. She was created and used. In a way, she felt a sick sense of comfort knowing she had at least fulfilled her purpose.
But now the true question was, what now?
A brief second chance?
She felt something inside pull her, so she closed her eyes and stepped forward.
Lumikki was screaming as she ran down the halls of the ship. There was something wrong with the machines. Of course it wasn't something that was life or death but then again Lumikki was new on the ship. Running strait in to the mechanic she blushed. The pirate was someone she had never really spoken to but she admired him from afar. Blinking she quietly said,
"I...uh...sorry I'm sorry I should have been watching..."
She didn't really get a response from him but he did look at her.
Lumikki's eyes opened as she looked around the room, scrambling to the wall she let her hands touch all over to make sure she was real to make sure she was whole.
"I...I'm...I'm dead..."
Closing her eyes hoping that when she opened them up again she'd see Commander and Roch standing over her and laughing at her for being clumsy. Opening them slowly she saw the pillars, that wasn't what she was hoping for.
"Wh...whats this?"
She stood in front of the white pillar and just listened quietly.
"No...Roch is real...I am real..."
The realization didn't wash over her clearly at first but the longer she stood there the longer she realized that the pillars were clearly telling her that she had a second chance to tell Roch once and for all that she liked him. She was going to go forward and she would find him.
[[Exit to Tower]]
Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 6:29 pm
Bastion finally got what he wanted.
Walking into the afterlife was a bit of a disappointment. He thought he was probably the only person who would have preferred oblivion to the sanctity of an eternal immortality, but when he thought about it long enough, he realized that was a selfish thought. He wasn't the only man in this world who'd died of a broken heart. Not the only man who'd fallen to his knees, crippled into an unlivable life from the simple fact that his feelings were not returned to him. No, he thought, he was one of a million. Cruel as it was, he knew he was not alone in his grief.
And maybe that made him feel just a little bit better.
Or maybe, as he tried to think back on all the times his heart had been wound so tightly around that one, tortured truth, he was starting to realize that none of that pain felt real anymore. It scared him, at first. He'd spent the majority of his life working off the basis of one single truth. He wasn't good enough.
But good enough for what? Was it really just that one woman he'd been suffering after all this time? One of a million women, no more real than the next? He didn't know how to suffer, anymore. He couldn't remember what had fueled all of that rage and agony he knew he'd been carrying around for years. He couldn't remember why he'd loved Mjoll so much.
So this truly was the afterlife, then. Your thoughts, your sins, your pain, purged away in the wake of the only truth left - your life meant nothing. You mean nothing. She means nothing.
And just like that, Bastion stopped being Bastion, anymore.
He stood, or at least he thought he stood - was any of this real? - in front of two pillars. One black, one white. If he was to go by common sense, the white pillar would have led him to heaven. The black, to hell. But Bastion felt the pull of the black pillar, demanding his presence. So it was to be hell, for him. At least, there, he would suffer in familiarity. He almost missed how pain made him feel real. Now, he felt nothing - and that almost felt worse.
So he stood in front of the black pillar, and everything but it, and he, faded away. It spoke to him, and the words struck with perfect clarity to agree with everything he'd already been thinking. His life was pointless. He was pitiful. He already knew these things, they took him by no surprise. He just listened to the ramblings of the gate of death, and he tried to care. It was getting so hard to listen, so hard to feel anything but apathy. He wanted to assure the black pillar that he believed whatever it was saying, but the demand came, and he numbly followed. Bastion turned to look at his shadow, and saw himself in the mirror reflection, crouched in hiding. He looked scared, and frightened. Bastion envied those emotions.
He was they, but they were not he. The black pillar was trying to tell him that he was nothing, and that shadow, that pitiful, crouching thing, was the real Bastion.
But he did not deserve that life. He should have been the puppet. Not Bastion.
He turned back up to the pillar, and attempted to ask why. Why couldn't it be him, there, living the real life? Why did he have to be the replica? Why, why, why?
No answers came.
Bastion turned back to his shadow, crouched so pitifully in a green shrubbery, and watched him suffer in his loneliness. Then he rolled his eyes, and smiled. Truly, some things never changed.
The stronger, more capable Bastion wanted to be given a chance to take the life that wasn't his. If anyone, even God himself, had the power to give him that chance, he knew he would prevail. That spineless oaf had no chance against him. Not now. Bastion was stronger, now.
Stronger, and free.
He followed the voice, beckoning him closer, and silently begged for that small favor to be a chance at life. He was ready, now. The real Bastion wasn't - but he was. He wanted that one final chance - because he was ready to live.
"You will be ours," The pillar stated gently, "This is as much your grief as it is ours. A reunion and a farewell at the same time. This is our farewell."
Wilson, what remained of him, what remained of the fragment of Wilson, born into the world as the White King, felt himself decomposing. Piece by piece, structure by structure, so methodical and simple, basic numbers, basic formulas, basic matter until he was nothing but emptiness itself. It was peaceful almost, blissful compared to his daily events, compared to a Kingdom so focused on Grief it forgot all else. Yes, this is what it felt at last to be at peace. He was alon-
- And then everything reversed, as if time had picked up backwards, as he watched himself break together, piece by piece, structure by structure. Pale remains of white, a coat fading into nothingness, his grief taken from him and replaced with something else. Longing.
A time would come soon then for them, that moment he had almost felt, that promise. For now, there was one more thing to do. He was change.
Syusaki
- Wilson spawns as the second Silver King, rite at the base of the tower. He remembers everything that happened prior and what the Pillars have told him. There is only one thing left to do now..
Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 6:40 pm
"Molan!?" Kashi sat straight up. Instantly he was greeted by dizziness and emptiness. Before him stood two pillars. He looked around confused for a moment. It was as if he could still feel Molan's arms holding him. Molan... What had happened to him? He was so dull now. So... Kashi looked up. 'Not here.'
He was alone. Save for these pillars. He slowly stood and stepped towards the brighter of the two. He flinched when a voice echoed from it. A secret? Kashiyoru only nodded and listened intently to the story laid out for him. 'A throne of pride?' Kashi's mind slowly flitted back to his kingdom of Edric. A whole kingdom of pride... He was snapped back to out of his thoughts when the pillar spoke again.
"My shadow?" He looked down and watched, mesmerized as swirls formed and color brightened. Himself? No! It looked like him.. with an animals ears and three tails!? His reflection seemed to hitting on every shadowy form that passed. Kashi could only imagine they must be other beings as well. Then it turned and, seemed to, lock eyes with him. He suddenly felt cold rush through him at the pillars words. If he was just a... puppet, then how... what... who? He felt overwhelmed and hit his knees.
"A fake? But..." If he didn't exists, if none of this was real, then what about what he felt? Were those predetermined? He knew the answer, but couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it. The pillar continued to speak, but it was difficult to find the will to care; until... say a final goodbye, just this once? Had that been--!?
Kashi's stood suddenly, nearly stumbling. A final goodbye! Had that been offered to Molan? Was that why he was so--?
"Yes!" The word couldn't rise from him fast enough. This world may be a fake, but it was real to him! And so was what he felt. Kashi put his hand to his chest. Even if his 'real' self was happy to flirt with everything around him, this Kashiyoru had something he wasn't ready to give up! That b*****d might go his whole existence without ever realizing was he was missing or, even, the time he was waiting. He just prayed he himself still had time... Time to say what he needed to say. There were also questions to be answered... Someone out there must know something!
'I'm not ready to let go of you just yet. Just... Be there.' He willed, inwardly. Even if it had to all end. It would end with them side by side. He really didn't fear death, or the end, since death wouldn't be the right word for it. But it didn't matter! All that did matter...
((Exit to the tower))
Masshiro
King Bunny
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LOLTERNATIVE
Super Trash
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Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 6:52 pm
It was peaceful, she mused. It wasn't painful like she had expected; not in a physical way at least. It came instantly and she felt like she was soaring; like she'd been in a cage and she could finally go wherever she wanted. But where could she go? Her Kingdom had fallen; her King killed by his own subjects and she had failed to protect him. She had failed to protect them all; forfeiting her honor and her pride. She wasn't even there when he was struck down. Why wasn't she there? She twisted and let out a choked cry. Trust had been placed in her and her abilities to protect and she had failed. Was she even as strong as she claimed to be or had all her survival since her birth been nothing but luck? If so, had her luck run out?
Images flashed into her mind and she was brought to her home; her sisters all proud and wonderful. They were all staring down at her and she wanted to get away from them. She didn't want them to see her shame; to see that her pride had been taken away from her in an instant. She'd not even killed anyone. Wounded a few, sure, but she'd come out worse off in the end. Gods she had been so reckless; so gung ho that she'd missed all the importance of this. Not to fight; but to protect.
Her mind twisted and she snarled a little. But how could she protect against the Silver King who killed with one attack? Who destroyed the King's power in an instant? What was the point in all of this if such a powerful King existed. How could a whole Kingdom defend their King against that? She fumed. It was impossible from the start! The Voice had this planned out; setting them all up to fail. She'd been played and made out to be a fool. Images flashed towards her and she tried to block them out; Wilson, the Silver King, her comrades. All a waste for nothing.
When the images cleared, her eyes focused on two pillars that appeared before her and she stayed away for a few moments, even after she was spoken to. It took her a few moments and finally, she glanced down at her shadow. It was curious to look at, that was for sure. A mirror reflection of her that.. looked like her and felt like her but wasn't quite whole. She was a part of them? A puppet? She touched the reflection and flinched away. Created to break..
"I don't understand..."
A wonderful discovery; to die without ever existing. She was right in thinking this was all in vain. All pointless and one sided. This was no equal battle; someone was controlling them like a child playing with toys. But she kept playing and she walked towards the white pillar; perhaps it would make her passing on fast. One final goodbye? Well, she supposed she could say goodbye to her comrades. To her home.. even though it didn't really exist.. To this fragment, they did and that was important for now. The pillar faded and she let herself be taken away to say her goodbyes.
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