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 Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:30 pm
Rarely did Faustite reach this sleeping space before Gevaudan made his home among the naked spruces. Before he nestled himself into the hollow of an old, root-bound oak, Faustite lit its spray of branches with lantern light. Ey stopped in that clearing, feet planted over an unknown count of knuckle and foot and too-smooth cranium, above the abject lack of broken bones and causes of death, and looked to the way ice formed a wrap about those branches. Yesterday it rained, ey remembered. Last night it froze. Today it dazzled like an unearthly sculpture.
Dazzled like the great doors of the Rift and how they howled open to the naïevete gawking at its halls. Strange how the unaware were so much more respectful of their surroundings, how the Negaverse respected power like it respected teeth about the throat. Stranger still how that respect ebbed with age and perceived awareness. How they thought themselves princes and dukes and marquesses and lords of creatures that were once their stewards.
Strangest yet they ey, a monster, a figment of fire, looked after a traitor. Deployed human care for one so desperate for connection that he sought anything he could. An enemy, a friend. A phantasm.
Faustite stood beneath no branch. Ey faced that tree, shoulders back, spine drawn straight by steel. Feet apart a shoulder's width. Eyes closed, ey felt the better part of a mile for auric indices. Headache-blazing gold for knights, sinus-searing silver for senshi. Of the Mirror Court, ey felt an insidious vapour like gasoline -- of little sway, yet intoxicating nonetheless. And of eir own, the Negaverse, there come a sultry haven of Metallia as undertone to the wretched, to the morose, to the lost that represented her.
Distant came the heat. Then came the throb, a dull thump thump thump of a hammer gaining inertia on the back of eir skull. What a wormwood to think that this will work.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:32 pm
It was rare to see Faustite waiting for him before he arrived, as he was used to being the early one and patiently waiting for the energy signature blink into the world he could sense and arrive at their meeting point. Gev found it increasingly lucky and reassured himself that this place had been a good choice after all since it was so distant that a energy signature being picked up from others would have made it seem pointless to even investigate. Even if someone did try, there was ample time for them to sense their redirection to their location and then vanish before they had a chance to pinpoint this very location. Furthermore, this cemetery hadn’t been used from the Negaverse in so long that no one would have need to come to use it.
More and more the spot was become a private space, outside of the city and the war. It was one of the few places in uniform he wasn’t on edge or paranoid for unseen threats. It was one of the few places in and out of uniform he felt comfortable. It was one of the only places he looked forward to going.
As he left the line of trees to enter the clearing, passing the mounds marked only by stones by those who felt some degree to mark them so that no one dug the same spots or possibly out of respect, he headed to the tree.
There, Faustite waited, framed by a chandelier of icicles and the rustling chime of frozen branches moving in the winter wind. A halo of crystallized ice sheltering a moving ember.
He couldn’t help the smile as he raised his hand as he approached. “You’re early.”
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:33 pm
Faustite felt no other presences. Only Gevaudan gleamed, closer and closer, until ey heard that voice. Ey turned, framed sidelong by the tree. "I wanted to see your mental theatre." Flame eyes lit on him curiously.
"Have you wanted to see what I've seen? It seems fair to go both ways." It was, however, a human desire to want to be heard and understood. Youma had no time or claim to such enterprises. Long gone were their human values, left to rot in the same desperate buildings that still clawed up at the Rift sky. What a misunderstanding it was to think they could relate to one another. Man to not-man. Human to not-human. That same misunderstanding shadowed Axinite for how he looked so fondly on a humanesque captain.
Faustite's second sight formed onto eir hand, clasped over it like a haunt. Ey looked to the fixed jewels -- echoes, they were, of Gevaudan's ring. Of all the crimes held hostage in the RIft. The crimes held hostage in people's hearts.
"I thought about all I pulled from you. How different -- vibrant -- everything was. How alive our cause felt. That life is stranger to me, though I lived it through you. Just like Castor seeing Kholat Syakhl. We can't drag that life back out of you."
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:34 pm
He walked ground the frozen grass and frozen puddles as he moved over to the other. “Well, I can do that. Hopefully that thing doesn’t keep you from seeing any reruns or anything else that isn’t exciting. I’d hate to have you waste your time over a memory of me getting dressed or making a sandwich.” He said with a bit of a laugh, in slightly higher spirits than normal.
As for the question, he paused once he was before him and considered it. “Can it work that way? Do you mean with me using that glove of yours on you or me being able to see what you are looking at inside my mind?” Either way, the were both tempting. One was that Fausitite’s own life was rather locked away from him and he was very careful in what he said. There was always a degree of consideration he saw when Faustite spoke as if everything was carefully picked. Rarely did he ever see a flicker of anger or a tone raised passionately out of frustration or venom. Then there was the long distant hunger to see anything related to the Negaverse again. Friends he had not seen in years. Places he recalled in memory but could no longer tread. A hunger for the familiar and the comforting. A sense of distantly feeling a connection he himself severed.
The other possibility that he presented was that the glove could let him sit in the same box seat as Faustite as they watched memories that he still had stored within his mind. He wondered that, as someone looking into his own mind from the outside, if they would be crisper and strengthen the memory after he was done. It would be interesting to see if he missed a detail that, in the mist of experiencing the moment, he didn’t notice.
“If it doesn't harm you then I’d be very interested.”
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:35 pm
"It works differently than Velvet remembers. It doesn't ask, it demands." Faustite splayed that hand open with the largest jewel at the vermeil epicenter, a rustic bronze claiming eir ink-stained hand greedily. Those jewels grimmered with enough latent energy that they could pull once more the memory from the man, the storied soldier before em.
"A thousand years ago, Velvet and the people he touched shared the memory. Felt their pains together. I never saw it change hands." How strange it would be if that same magic, the same subjugation, was used on him. Against him. This magic, now twisted to Negaverse cruelty, refused to share. Therein lay its worst pains -- the inability to see what the aggressor saw. Leto, poor strapped-to-the-chair Leto, poor former torturer Leto, poor Court Princess and Warrior Leader Leto, knew nothing of what Faustite learned from her. That mystery remained a haunting. Even now, Faustite expected, that question lingered.
But Gevaudan's nagging mystery was assuaged with trust. Trust that the creature who probed his mind told truths of what ey found.
Faustite's hand snapped shut into a beckon, and the general approached their hollowed tree. "I'll let you try it afterward. See what it means to be me." Gevauden served long enough and faithfully enough to allow em that. Gevaudan's plight was such a human one -- to understand and be understood, to devote himself and be led -- and with that comes an undeniable trade. A deservedness.
An investment. Faustite turned with an offer for Gevaudan to sit in the hollow.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:36 pm
“This isn’t going to hamper our operation right now?” He said, tone serious as he regarded the glove. They had taken a temporary break away from the factory to take a breath, but he wasn’t about to pretend that he wasn’t slightly nervous with leaving their party alone. No doubt they could sense they weren’t around and being away for too long would risk someone happening upon them. They had allowed themselves this moment, their temporary departure from what they had planned for so long, to come here. It took more time for Gevaudan of course, but he had lingered back at the factory while all Faustite needed to do was take a memory and leave. The half-youma was not there to torture or play mind games with Leto or Lorely. The memories were his payments and Gevaudan wanted to make sure he was insured that tax for the risks he was taking.
So far everything was good. So far, they had accomplished a lot, but he wasn’t about to pretend that things could go south very quickly.
He just wasn’t trying to think about it, and having a moment otherwise of it was keeping his nerves at bay.
“I can’t say I’m not curious how this all works. And that I’m not curious about you. I know we’ve been talking a while, and I’ve been fine with giving you what I know. I frankly would like someone to know what I’ve seen in case something happens to me. It’s better my memories of the Negaverse stay with the Negaverse and aren’t lost. After purifying, I know how easily memories can be lost in a flash. I don’t want to have those I worked for and cared about vanish with me. I trust you. I trust you to keep them. It..actually makes me very happy that someone remembers them. That someone will if I should - “ He gave a bit of a shrug, figuring that Faustite would know that what they were doing was dangerous. There was no need to say it.
The curled finger was a bit too come-hither than he expected, but he followed Faustite to the familiar seat among the tree’s branches. Settling, he waited for the glove to take whatever it demanded of him. “Let the show begin.” He said, gesturing for Faustite to start.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:36 pm
And a show it was. Once Gevaudan took his place among the roots, once Faustite bent at the hips to press that hand over the knight's chest, he came with a start to the unearthly abode beyond where even ey wandered. Hands gripped and clutched, framing em within the memory, as before em stood a figure weaker than Chrysocolla. Weaker and more displaced than even Aelius when he tried to urge himself bodily into the Hall of Shadows. Weaker than himself as the boy-turned-newly-youma, naked in a bath of blackened milk. That wretched, war-scarred face was not eirs to know but for Wolframite's intuition. A ghost of a woman for which Faustite felt displaced familiarity. Baseless solidarity.
Then she spoke, and what weak rasp rattled out of her iron-stained throat barely carried in that cavernous room. Faustite wrenced eyes about but could not force eir gaze beyond Wolframite's fixed periphery. What stone held them remained unknown -- what hands and claws remained unidentified.
That voice, however hollow and hoarse, charged them with treason. Powerful words poured forth. Scorned words. Words bred from a patience worn to bone, from bare-knuckle deprivation. But that bitter fury was held back by something beyond her frail form, that much lingered in her words. Was it resentment? Restraint? As objections boiled up around him, frothing forth from their de-facto leader, from the man charged as Hematite, from the others whose names and faces looked just as unfamiliar as the next yet known to the point of swelling breast all the same, and Faustite felt further trapped. Further tried for how no movement could free him. For Wolframite was he, and Wolframite fell prey to needle-pricks dotting his lids. Sharp cuts to the quick of his emotional core.
Further and further the tension drove them. Soon they were dropped like so many bags of excess export. Flat they dropped, only to pick themselves up with various states of indignation. The purple one, enraged. The brown one, quietly furious. The brown and pink one earned more focus from Wolframite than all the rest, and Faustite could only watch the play of emotions as that man's face fell from rage to resentment to apprehension. Wherever they lingered now, animosity hung in the air. Weighed on his tongue like an iron taste. Like it knew each secret spent against it -- like even in another person's memory, it disapproved Faustite for each meager shortcoming --
Loyalty. Challenge. The one at the front was challenged, her crown apparent, her crime worn about her like a cloak, and another known-unknown sovereign appeared to her aid. This one, black and blue. Shorter by nearly a foot.
And from that challenge, the meager framework staying them from death collapsed at once. The double doors to the wall behind them cracked open, that animosity thickening, choking, bearing down with every heavy syllable pressing into his lungs, his eyes, the eyes behind those eyes, the flame stoked in a core so many years in the future, and it reached for all that power bound up into a boy's body, it drew down with those flecks of light lapping at ankles, those coronal ejections that so seared every part touched, hotter than fire, hotter than the vicious melt of dark power from his palms, his face, his neck, his arms --
Faustite's hand snapped back as if burned. Ey straightened, free palm braced against the tree over Gevaudan's unassuming and unknowing form. The general blinked away the dregs of that memory, waited for eir metamorphosed heart to slow to a sustainable trot. When ey spoke, eir gaze was still fixed at ice-slicked bark. At fire's tumultuous reflection. Faustite's voice rasped its strain. "The girl in the white dress. With one arm and one eye. Who was she and how did she have you held?"
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:37 pm
The warm snapped away and he was left with the retreat of Faustite’s touch. The cold snapped back against his chest and he placed a hand there to keep the briskness of the sudden departure from being so jarring to his senses. Slightly feverish from the magic, he looked up as he tried to read the other’s expression.
It clearly was not a memory of making a sandwich and so he watched, waiting and curious as to what he might have seen. It took some time for him to talk again, more than usual, and his brow creased with a growing sense of concern. Just as he was about to speak, the other spoke to him.
A girl - in a white dress?
It was vague, and he tried to recall any women in his life worth remembering who wore white dresses.
With one arm. One eye.
That shortened the list, but even still he tried to think. It was a slow process as he worked through those more recent in his life but once he thought of it, it jolted through him. A flash of a image. A deep well of sadness at the very sight of someone so very fragile that the winter’s gust would have tested her regardless of the strong will it held.
The hand at his chest tightened as he through of her, thought of that moment as the backdrop of where he saw that one instance of her in such a way bubbled up around her small figure. “Aree?” He said, vision hot as he looked up. “You saw her?” But he knew that he must have seen her or how else could he describe her like that? No where else in his mind held that one instance, that one flash of who she was at that one time when not adorn by her youma appendages. That vicious armor that ate its host and left it as it was. As Faustite had seen her.
“Tanzanite. Or…..what became of her. Without the youma. She…….she used to look so beautiful.” His throat tightened as he recalled her.
Why did he have to pull that memory now? Now when he was doing this exact thing? When he was directly disobeying her after that very lesson?
Did the glove know something? Did it demand he see it again? To have his conviction tested even now? Even when he had Leto and Loreley chained in the city?
I’m a traitor.
He knew this, but it wasn’t just to the Negaverse. He betrayed her. Her ghost came to call to him, now, to recall what he was doing. What he knew nothing of.
Children.
Children who knew nothing. Who didn’t make the right sacrifices.
He gripped the fabric of his chest tightly. “They were people...or...once. Traitors made to stone. The Traitors Field. Before Metalia’s chambers.”
And Faustite had seen. Seen that even then in his youth how his beginnings of defection had started to grow. Seen how disobedient he had become and how he disobeyed even those that were close to him. What would he think of him now? How easily he was swayed by others or maybe still how deeply rooted his hunger for revenge had been even in uniform. The years of long stretched frustration while in the Negaverse’s service.
“I……...I don’t…..I wasn’t a good soldier. I hurt her. Someone so important to me. Even I disobeyed that. The Negaverse may not be kind, but I have been given many chances to correct myself. I’ve been to the Traitor’s Field and - and now look.” Now he was in another uniform. The warning, the correct, had not taken at all.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:38 pm
Faustite wiped black sweat from eir brow with a gold cuff. The haunt of that place caked to eir bones. Mortuary fingers wearing eir skin like sallow gloves. Worse were the light-welded manacles --
Licking dry lips black, Faustite searched for words. Eir gaze found the ground first, a swallow bobbed along narrow neck beneath metal-affixed cravat, then settled on Gevaudan. Shoulder rolled under iron rings. Eir posture shifted, restricted to a stiff contrapposto. "Estque pati poenas quam meruisse minus." Ey swallowed again. "Punishment is a balm to human souls, isn't it." Punishment was absolution. By enduring it, Wolframite could start anew. And did, as evinced by his continued life.
How peculiar. "You didn't learn because you were punished. Worse the conscience that festers with doubt." Ey spoke, but the words felt raw and bothered. Askew, unsettled. That presence wore at em, caked inside eir cage. "They don't ask us to think or feel. But I see differently."
Finally the sear faded, leaving the youma general worn. Ey stripped from hand the cluster of jewels and hammered bronze that comprised eir bracelet. This ey dangled on one nailed finger and lowered as offering to Gevaudan. Marginally larger ey was, but it should still fit. With the Rift crystals, however, ey wondered if someone so pure could wield it. If anyone lacking Kholat's aged memories could see with it.
"Tanzanite," ey muttered to emself, then shook away the thought upon taking a seat. There would be more time to consider her once the Mirror Princess and her footstool were dispatched.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:39 pm
It had been taxing, and he wondered if it was because of the strain of the glove or being put through what he had been put through without any warning. Faustite had already informed him that he could see and feel everything he felt that day, but unlike Gevaudan who had years to replay the scene over and over to dull the intensity of that day, Faustite had not been given the luxury of knowing what would have come next. He had no idea how he came to be there, where the place was, and what would happen to him. He did not know the feelings he felt, the reasons tied to them, or the events that had led up to that moment. Instead, he was thrown mid-movie into the climax of the scene and it was a fight that was never in his favor.
As he wiped his brows, he watched with growing concern and wondered if maybe there might be some prolonged wear that the glove might have. An unseen negative on the body that was already being taxed by a youma. Worn away and feeding off a human and if taken, would leave only a weakened shell.
“Aree - I don’t think she had much choice in how the youma took her over. How it ate away at her body and consumed so much of her. You never got to see her as she was. When she only had the arm. When she was a civilian, but you did see her strong in battle before all of that. That was what was left. Without the youma, she could barely stand. It was painful to see all that she had given for the Negaverse. In the name of loyalty and even when she was standing there, as much as she hated the Dark Moon Court as much as we all did, she was still so very loyal to orders - because if we didn’t all stick together united under the same flag, under the same orders without question, then her family could fall apart. I wonder……..if she was here today, what she would think. I often think about that. But then again, she did all that and she isn’t here. She gave everything and she isn’t here.”
He looked up and moved to see if Faustite needed help sitting down, but he moved on his own. Taking the glove off, he dangled it from his fingertip almost playfully before it was set into his lap. It was strange to not see it on the other’s hand, and he watched him sit beside him, regaining himself.
“You said it, didn't you? Heard her speak. That force.” He watched him, studying his gaze. “Metalia.”
Looking at the glove, he lifted his hand and bite the fabric of two fingers at the tip and pulled it off. Free from the fabric, he took his hand and slid it into the glove. It was bigger than he expected, but doable. “How do I do this?”
Glancing over, he frowned. “Are you okay with me doing this now?” Over what happened, could he handle the invasion of his memories?
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:39 pm
'The youma took her over.' Was that such an inevitability for each of them? That they would inexorably succumb to what another officer could command? Faustite couldn't grasp it. Couldn't see emself the victim of that raging blaze. Couldn't picture what would remain of Eion Risk once stripped of it. No, that youma housed eir vitality. Should that half be drawn out of em, Faustite would have minutes to live. Seconds. Eir body would eat itself and Eion would look that same grade of wretchedness as Aree.
inside my body: the dream you told me about the landscape eating itself and moulting; the silence of cannibal grass and trees. What a curse, that ecosystem. The slowest self-immolation.
"I saw it." That force felt raw in a manner incomprehensible to the human mind. A thing of dolor and fury. It peeled thought raw, opened the mind wide as a succulent peach. What had it tasted of Wolframite? Of Faustite through those eyes? Trapped or barricaded, that entity lived far beneath each of them, breathing powerlines into each of their hearts. Depending on them. Dominating them. Breached herself. Compromised.
Faustite fell silent for a length. Aree stood before that door and Zinkenite accompanied her. Before it, that antechamber of traitors. Stone warriors frozen into perpetuity. Zinc and copper and moondust --
Drawing breath, the general snapped back to Gevaudan's question. How distant it felt from those seconds spent in his mind -- "Try it." For few memories affected em so dearly that they made even trade for Metallia. For the warning only her closest soldiers received, straight from a bared neck.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:40 pm
'The youma took her over.' Was that such an inevitability for each of them? That they would inexorably succumb to what another officer could command? Faustite couldn't grasp it. Couldn't see emself the victim of that raging blaze. Couldn't picture what would remain of Eion Risk once stripped of it. No, that youma housed eir vitality. Should that half be drawn out of em, Faustite would have minutes to live. Seconds. Eir body would eat itself and Eion would look that same grade of wretchedness as Aree.
inside my body: the dream you told me about the landscape eating itself and moulting; the silence of cannibal grass and trees. What a curse, that ecosystem. The slowest self-immolation.
"I saw it." That force felt raw in a manner incomprehensible to the human mind. A thing of dolor and fury. It peeled thought raw, opened the mind wide as a succulent peach. What had it tasted of Wolframite? Of Faustite through those eyes? Trapped or barricaded, that entity lived far beneath each of them, breathing powerlines into each of their hearts. Depending on them. Dominating them. Breached herself. Compromised.
Faustite fell silent for a length. Aree stood before that door and Zinkenite accompanied her. Before it, that antechamber of traitors. Stone warriors frozen into perpetuity. Zinc and copper and moondust --
Drawing breath, the general snapped back to Gevaudan's question. How distant it felt from those seconds spent in his mind -- "Try it." For few memories affected em so dearly that they made even trade for Metallia. For the warning only her closest soldiers received, straight from a bared neck.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:41 pm
Quiet, he let Faustite rest and looked out across the field to the mounds. The sacrifices. Nealtite said it. Tanzanite said it. They all said it. But they were sacrifices to fuel a fire, a war, to feed Metalia, while the rest of them tried to keep their world together. Killed to keep as much of it glued as more and more pieces broke off or went missing until it was something deformed and different then when it started.
The ice on the branches chimed with the rustle of the wind and he felt a stillness in the fact that Faustite knew what he knew. He had seen it. Felt it. In its power and touch. In the force of its voice. Knew where it was housed and what they were all bowing to without ever seeing it. Faustitie knew now what Wolframite had known. That Metalia was not something you could easily defeat. Maybe with the power of a Royal. Many royals - maybe. But not one person. Not him. Not unless he had more power and then what? Then the sides he didn’t want would take over. He had seen both sides. Seen Metalia and the Code. Who was even worse or better? They all fed a power. A side. And they all wanted to keep their fragile ideals and bonds together regardless of how much they gave to it. How much was tossed to the fires to feed it just to buy some more moments of warmth.
Try it.
Turning, he looked over at the other man. For a moment he wondered if he should decline, but he felt that old selfishness pull at him. How fickle was Faustite? Would he ever have such a chance again? There was something beautiful in the moment to be given a chance to see through Faustite’s eyes and he hungered for it before ever knowing he ever had wanted a taste of it. His heart raced at the idea that he might never get the opportunity again.
“If I think it isn’t good for you, I’ll stop. Okay?” He said, wondering if he could stop the glove or nothing anything of Faustite’s state once he went into the memory. He wasn’t sure how it even worked.
Moving, he placed himself in front of the other, parting his legs just a moment to crouch there and rest the glove gently on his chest.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:45 pm
What came was nothing. No memory surged forth, no jewels brightened between Gevaudan's palm and Faustite's chest. Nothing but heat radiated into that small, chilled hand.
Faustite raised attention to Gevaudan's face. Watched the nothing shroud it in doubt. Fickle it may have been, this source of power. Perhaps picky over its owner. Perhaps reticent to use itself against its owner. Or it was tied to eir starseed as the remnant Kholat Syakhl, or misaligned with knights of old, or simply spent for resources.
Or Gevaudan watched a scene as simple as Faustite reading paperwork. Passing over the city. Listening to Barbary rumble while Schörl disciplined one of her many objectified officers. Nothing suggested that sort of distance in Gevaudan's countenance, however.
"Do you see anything?" Faustite waited, counted eir breaths as they fogged out against the December chill. Eir mind ever clamored toward Metallia, however -- crawled like a sin. Crawled like a child toward a mother of choice, the mother behind eir mother. That heat so like eir own, swimming about an ankle. Searing out all that it meant to be an officer. How close had Tanzanite come to her? What was their relationship like? If only Faustite could glimpse inside that fractured mind. If only ey could command that staunch charisma seen through Wolframite's eye.
If only ey could lead as she once did.
Instead Faustite played a petty game behind the curtains. Pushed this knight toward dismantling the Mirror Court. If he succeeded, half their leadership crumbled. But if he failed, away went one of the Negaverse's greatest traitors after Faustite stole away some protected secrets. If they both survived and Faustite kept or killed or kidnapped this knight back into the Negaverse, then ey championed courtly relations. Each were sure bets, but none matched the daring moxie that so flowed from Tanzanite.
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Posted: Sat Feb 02, 2019 7:46 pm
Disappointment fell into his face and he slowly withdrew the glove from his chest as he rested back more fully. “Nothing. Maybe it doesn’t work with knights.” He said, reaching down and slowly removing the glove from his hand to offer back to the other.
“Would have been nice to see how it works.” Would have been nice to see something of you. To know you a bit more.
“Here.” He tried to muster a smile to hide the sinking feeling that he missed his chance - or maybe never had that chance to begin with.
“And - thanks. For offering. I know many people wouldn’t let themselves play a russian roulette to have any memory seen by someone else. I appreciate the gesture.”
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