What is it, to be alone? What is it, to feel it? After all, a feeling is nothing more than—
—in the knowledge of one world, a chemical reaction in the brain. In the knowledge of another, a change in the flow of aether. Anger, joy, loneliness, love - at their core, they are the same.
At the core, any change is the same as other change. What difference does the nature, the effect of the change make?
The knowledge descends upon you, wrapping you up in itself. There is no true difference between the death of a man and the death of a star. And there is no grief nor hope in that ending. One man, hundred, thousand, million, beyond - a slight change in their aether, and all become simply things, food for other creatures, the soil, the plants.
That's all they've ever truly been, a collection of matter.
But you are part of the whole. E pluribus unum, and if one speaks for many, lives for them, fights for them, feels for them, then he knows all they have known, all they have felt, all they have gone through. And as the Noise was in their bones - twisting, disrupting the flow of aether, - so it is in yours. Wherever you go, you carry it with you, you carry their deaths with you.
It grows louder still, like the wailing of some giant creature - or many - in distress, or perhaps the groan of metal under great strain, and—
Far away, it begins. The crack of glass running towards you, closer and closer and closer and louder and louder and louder until it is the thunder of the universe breaking apart.
[He has bore it all once. Their hopes, their dreams, their very history. Bearing the weight of it even when it seemed impossible. But faithfully he has carried their spirit forward. The idealism of their lives and their home.
But he is unable to bear the weight of their deaths. Their pain. He drowns too deeply in his own to be able to help theirs. It is why he couldn’t save Lahabrea. It is why he has no idea how to comfort Hythlodaeus.
Some part of him realizes this is not realty but a game. An illusion.
Another part of him simply wants to escape.
And in the end there is no need to endure. A game would revive him. A lack of Zodiark to set the star right would leave him without salvation.
He fumbles for the one item that came with him, his gun. As the sound gets louder and louder, he brings it to his temple and with little hesitation, he has had a thousand thousand deaths to go with his equal number of mortal lives.
There is almost something animal about the atmosphere as Alexander readies his gun, as though the whole universe is a creature chasing its prey, one last mad leap to reach for him—
—the gunshot sounds.
For a time, there is nothing.
When you open your eyes again, you find yourself back at the Macarenses Angle, still in the same peaceful atmosphere as before - but this time the darkness to the right is gone, revealing the usual streets of Amaurot leading away. And is it your imagination, or is there a tiny glimmer of something on the ground in that direction?
The tower of the Bureau still stands before you, and the sun is still setting to the left.
As Alexander picks it up, there is suddenly a change in the world—
It's been a little while, hasn't it? Seeing the flow of the lifeforce around you.
You have acquired AETHERSIGHT! Again.
-----
Once you get close enough to the tower, there is a brief, soft but deeply unnerving sound that leaves a ringing silence after it - and the landscape, changed. The tower is now sliced into separate sections as though by a giant sword, all of them floating in the air but not drifting too far from the tower’s original position. Across the sky runs… a crack, or perhaps a tear - it’s hard to say. It’s painful to look at; nothingness put into visible form, like a slash in a painting that makes you realize all that beauty and color is nothing more than mere pigment on canvas; a two-dimensional existence at best. The moon above is replaced by a black hole, and somehow seems closer than before. Where the aether around you flowed freely, peacefully before, it's much fainter now, bending in unnatural patterns, like sick leaves.
Suddenly, there is someone on the rubble-strewn steps of the tower. Have they been here this whole time? Or did they only just appear? Their shape flickers constantly as though two images are trying to exist at the same time, but even through the visual noise it’s possible to recognize Levity… and his robot-bird assistant. An arm becomes a steel wing for a brief moment, a metal beak suddenly nothing more than the curve of Levity’s mask - before the dance of the shapes begins again.
The… creature, if such it be, seems to pose a question. Perhaps surprisingly, its voice is rather melodious if tinted with static, but the words are undecipherable. Whatever language it speaks, it is none you know, not even Ancient.
[He is normally on the pale side, but watching all that drains more color from his skin especially since he can now see the color of it.
He does step closer as if to accept the invitation but does not take his hand. His fingers are too busy biting into his palms to ground him.]
Levity. Hythlodaeus. A mix of both or neither. In the end, it doesn’t matter who or what you are, my old friend. Just as long as you can find happiness and content again. Free from the burdens and pain wrought by that great tragedy.
The... person, creature, whatever you want to call them, pauses, as though in surprise. They stare at Alexander for some time, studying him, then reach out again - this time not to take his hand, but simply... reach for him.
Birdity takes Emet's hand in both of his, still seemingly a little stunned by the acceptance and affection... then words pour out of him, still unintelligible static-y birdspeech, but there's a lot of emotion behind them - pleading, desperation, relief, sorrow, apology. But still... not a word to be understood.
Birdity seems to realize that after a while. He looks down at their joined hands, then steps closer, almost shyly, to rest his head against Emet's shoulder.
Emet sure can pick up Birdity! Who makes a surprised and flustered noise, but does cling to him - first for balance, then wrapping his arms around Emet's neck in a hug. But it doesn't quite last.
He sighs quietly at the offer, putting a hand to his heart.
And, by way of explanation... he plunges a hand into his own flickering form, slowly pulling out a gently glowing something--a fragment of a crystal, feebly pulsating with the colour of Hythlodaeus's soul.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
—in the knowledge of one world, a chemical reaction in the brain. In the knowledge of another, a change in the flow of aether. Anger, joy, loneliness, love - at their core, they are the same.
At the core, any change is the same as other change. What difference does the nature, the effect of the change make?
The knowledge descends upon you, wrapping you up in itself. There is no true difference between the death of a man and the death of a star. And there is no grief nor hope in that ending. One man, hundred, thousand, million, beyond - a slight change in their aether, and all become simply things, food for other creatures, the soil, the plants.
That's all they've ever truly been, a collection of matter.
As are you.
Can you want to go on?
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
[And he rolls his eyes as hard as he can since he is devoid of speech.]
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
But after all, his reaction, too, is merely a fact, a thing. The cosmos around him does not care.
There is nothing here to care.
What now?
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
Nothing but dark slumber, here.
Are you not weary?
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
And here is yours.
And here is mine.
We sleep, and never dream again.
Somehow, the silence grows deeper, pressing down on Alexander - genuine pressure, forcing his eyes to close, thoughts slow down, drift away...
But also on the edge of the hearing is a distant, incredibly faint tone - a high note, like that of a violin, or perhaps the ringing of struck glass.
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
The note rises, grows louder, more noticeable now.
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
For this they broke the laws of reality and began anew. For this reason Zodiark was and will always be needed.]
Re: THE TRUTH, A TRUTH
It grows louder still, like the wailing of some giant creature - or many - in distress, or perhaps the groan of metal under great strain, and—
Far away, it begins. The crack of glass running towards you, closer and closer and closer and louder and louder and louder until it is the thunder of the universe breaking apart.
cw: self harm
But he is unable to bear the weight of their deaths. Their pain. He drowns too deeply in his own to be able to help theirs. It is why he couldn’t save Lahabrea. It is why he has no idea how to comfort Hythlodaeus.
Some part of him realizes this is not realty but a game. An illusion.
Another part of him simply wants to escape.
And in the end there is no need to endure. A game would revive him. A lack of Zodiark to set the star right would leave him without salvation.
He fumbles for the one item that came with him, his gun. As the sound gets louder and louder, he brings it to his temple and with little hesitation, he has had a thousand thousand deaths to go with his equal number of mortal lives.
He pulls the trigger.
Take that, Noise! Also cleanup on aisle 8.]
Re: cw: self harm
—the gunshot sounds.
For a time, there is nothing.
When you open your eyes again, you find yourself back at the Macarenses Angle, still in the same peaceful atmosphere as before - but this time the darkness to the right is gone, revealing the usual streets of Amaurot leading away. And is it your imagination, or is there a tiny glimmer of something on the ground in that direction?
The tower of the Bureau still stands before you, and the sun is still setting to the left.
Re: cw: self harm
But eventually he will roll over to get up and check on that glimmer.]
no subject
And that glimmer turns out to be... a piece of forbidden candy.
That is to say, a crystal! But not one of the Convocation.
Take it?
no subject
He does holding it up to the light before pocketing it. He heads to the tower.]
no subject
It's been a little while, hasn't it? Seeing the flow of the lifeforce around you.
You have acquired AETHERSIGHT! Again.
-----
Once you get close enough to the tower, there is a brief, soft but deeply unnerving sound that leaves a ringing silence after it - and the landscape, changed. The tower is now sliced into separate sections as though by a giant sword, all of them floating in the air but not drifting too far from the tower’s original position. Across the sky runs… a crack, or perhaps a tear - it’s hard to say. It’s painful to look at; nothingness put into visible form, like a slash in a painting that makes you realize all that beauty and color is nothing more than mere pigment on canvas; a two-dimensional existence at best. The moon above is replaced by a black hole, and somehow seems closer than before. Where the aether around you flowed freely, peacefully before, it's much fainter now, bending in unnatural patterns, like sick leaves.
Suddenly, there is someone on the rubble-strewn steps of the tower. Have they been here this whole time? Or did they only just appear? Their shape flickers constantly as though two images are trying to exist at the same time, but even through the visual noise it’s possible to recognize Levity… and his robot-bird assistant. An arm becomes a steel wing for a brief moment, a metal beak suddenly nothing more than the curve of Levity’s mask - before the dance of the shapes begins again.
"█̶̡̢̼̗̥͑͜█̴̞̩̬̩͋͐̓͌͊̈͗͜ͅͅ ̵͚͉͕̱̭͖̈́͂̀̍͝█̷͇̭͓̟̝̭̝̲̆̇̾͊̌̃͒͠͠█̵̩̰̝̈̐̏̆́ ̵̝̫͚̱̖̗̱̼̤̖̃█̵͔̠̹̞̯̮̔͠█̷̡̣͕͔̟̬̻̤͎͍̙̑͆̌͆̒̕ ̷̡̡̜̦̈̍̏̀̒͛̊͠͝█̸̛̬̖̣̱̗̗̝͈͌̓͋̀͒͊͊̚ͅͅ█̴̛̞̱̱͎̦̀́̀̍͑̕͠█̵͕͔̬́̉́̓͐̃̔͂͠█̶̡̘̙̺̭̻̰̭̅̄̓̏̾͆͊͝?̸̲͖̺̠͖͖̥͕̹͌̿̓"
The… creature, if such it be, seems to pose a question. Perhaps surprisingly, its voice is rather melodious if tinted with static, but the words are undecipherable. Whatever language it speaks, it is none you know, not even Ancient.
"█̷̨̩͈̮̜̺̗̒́̑̌̂̆̄̓█̴̧̗̤̼̻̦̤͖͈̰̽̇ ̴̦̱̱͚̀͊̾͜ͅ█̸̡̢̜̼̞͚̖͎͚̞̃̅͐͜█̶̧̨̰͖͚̞͉͉̝̺͇̒̅͛̅█̵̧̦̰̘̠̙̭͔̅̽͊͐͒̊͐̈̕.̸̡̣͖͖̬̮̝͍̰͙̜́́̌͒̈́͌̕͝ ̷̤̪̤̮̻̱͍̦͔̮͑͂̂͋̚̚͝ͅ█̴̫͍͈̙͇͙̫̮̺̖͙̍͗̌͌̄̔̉͌͋͘█̶͚̥͓̯͇͓̫̰̄̑̈́̀̉̋́̓͂̍͜█̷̨͕͈̼̻͉̉̈́̏█̵̧͈̝̩͛͝͠█̶̢̙̝̝̘̠̠̯́̔ͅ.̸̜͉̤̭̟͓̣̩͕̩̘͆"
It steps closer, holding out a hand - wing steel palm blades skin - in a seemingly friendly gesture. There is a smile in their voice now.
Ah, but what an incomplete existence they are.
Take their hand?
no subject
He does step closer as if to accept the invitation but does not take his hand. His fingers are too busy biting into his palms to ground him.]
Levity. Hythlodaeus. A mix of both or neither. In the end, it doesn’t matter who or what you are, my old friend. Just as long as you can find happiness and content again. Free from the burdens and pain wrought by that great tragedy.
no subject
"h̨̧̝̺̲͊̇̂͛͘ạ͓̹̩͛͋͗͠d͙̖͍̰͇̈́͂͊̄̔̅̔͜͢e̥͙̬͗̊͠.̡͓̠͇̩͎̆̔͊̏̐̉̕ͅ.̫̫̞͂͑͡.̧̗̣̜͚̊̐̐̇̇ ̮̣̯̋̉̔ş͔͌͊̀ͅ?̯̞̍̚"
no subject
I am here, my friend. You need not shoulder this alone.
no subject
Birdity seems to realize that after a while. He looks down at their joined hands, then steps closer, almost shyly, to rest his head against Emet's shoulder.
"ṗ̝͙̺̮̮̠͒͂̊͡͝l͇̥̥̲͇̹̎͐͑̐̍͠ẻ̹̟̥̲̰̗̳͙͌̃̈́̽͌͘͠a̢̛̪͎͉̯̠̎́̋̃͗͜͡s̜͔̱͚͒̍̔͡ē͖̠̟̩̆̓̅.̛̗̳̜̤̤́̈̎̚.̧͚̖̞͉̪̺̈̆͐̈̀̐͡.̞̆ ̢̫̬̌́͊h̨̦̘͉͖͌̿͋͌͂ò̖̫̭̮̜̘̗̭̙̀́̔̏́͑͂͡m͚̗͕̳̼͌̎̏̌͡ĕ̢͓̰̪͚̖̥̟̾̊͒̿͑̕͠.̮͕̖̼̗͗̈̆́̀͋͢"
no subject
Close your eyes and give me control and perhaps some of your aether. I can create you an image of it.
And we will get there. Home. Ever do we strive for it.
no subject
Emet sure can pick up Birdity! Who makes a surprised and flustered noise, but does cling to him - first for balance, then wrapping his arms around Emet's neck in a hug. But it doesn't quite last.
He sighs quietly at the offer, putting a hand to his heart.
"ņ̢͈͑̌̈ỏ̜̜̌͆͟.̱̟̀̿.͉͚̟̾͞͝.̨̖̟̪͍̪̤́͋̊̒̑̄́̚͜ ̨͖͉̮̿̍͒͛͘͜a͈͎͓̮͗̿̈͂e͖̦͔̗̙̲̿̾̅̐͝͠ť̞̭̩͖̗͓̦̈͊͌̀̉͐̈́͟ḧ̘̼́͊è͇̳̙͍̹̭̗͊̓̓̿̚͡r̛̩͎̀.̨͚̍͌̓͟ ̯̒͘͢͝ͅn̝̅o̧̫͓̬̒͐̆͢͞͡ ͕̤̮͋̈̓c̜͕̙͕͉͙̀̈́͆̇̾̓̚͟ơ̺̱͔̯͈̙̘̑̌́̏͞͡ṋ͎̦̝̬̫̾̓̄̆̀̅͘ͅ.̯̺͕̘̙̎̈́̂̓̕.̡̱̺͖̯͂͂̇̊̃̚͢.̜͖̩̳͎̫̐̾͂̆̽́ ͓̮̙͉̞͗̎̿̿͠t͈̞̑͘r̻̺͕̰̐̀͘͘͟͡o̹̘̪̼̎̏̌͡l̨͍̘̤̻̦̓̀̓̀̚̚.̡̢̦͂̀͘"
And, by way of explanation... he plunges a hand into his own flickering form, slowly pulling out a gently glowing something--a fragment of a crystal, feebly pulsating with the colour of Hythlodaeus's soul.
He is nothing more than a shard.
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