Post by Riley Sorsa on Feb 2, 2022 9:00:38 GMT -8
The others were gone, banished once more back to the world of the waking. The bastion moaned as it was freed from the weight of their existence. Leaving only Lamassu and Riley behind. They had not a chance to say goodbye. For a moment, the darkling was burdened with guilt and regret.
They hadn't thought to send a message. To tell Archie, to say to him they were sorry for the oaths they had broken, the disappointment and failure. But, sorry, they had not spoken to him of this choice, included him in this decision. Riley could hear his protest, the anger hiding his fear, the pain in which he would argue against this choice.
Or to Dani, to say those three simple words they never before dared to say (why had they been so hard to say?). The truth left unspoken. Not even now had they passed the message along to, for another to say in Riley’s stead.
They hadn't thought they needed those messages. They found themselves before this deity of dreams, the realization of their choice. The weight of its finality dawned on them as the spotlight on a dark stage.
“Are you ready?”
“How can I be?”
“We never truly are, are we?”
Lamassu reached out their hands, pressing them into the mantle of the Twilight Dancer without further hesitation. There was the madness of wonder and discovery behind the Sphinx's eyes. They wanted to know, to unravel the Darkling. Taking hold of the magic of the token, pulling it from the sheath that was Riley, a blade to cut away the mask, to cut away the mien. To slice the thread.
"What I will say is that a chance to become a cog in someone else's machine will be a frequent danger whichever path you choose."
"My boundaries. My choices. I get to choose. I decide who gets access to me- That decision is mine. I want that decision to be mine."
"There are no second chances to be worthy of because we create them ourselves, with sweat and Glamour and effort."
"Everyone is changed by time, even those whose time wasn't filled by waking nightmares. And we were affected by them, but by how much is neither a possible nor useful metric to measure. Our past is part of us, but so is our present and our future. The past cannot holistically define us."
"Remember, that if dreams were free."
Nothing,
stillness,
ecstatic.
Melanie's eyes opened; for a moment, the soft fluorescent lights of the pool caused them to squint, adjusting. The hot vegas air-kissed their wet cheeks. They had been crying. Their feet floated gently in the illuminated pool, its warmth sending a chill up their spine. The tactile reality of it all was an overwhelming sensory overload.
Their head spun before they felt the weight of two familiar forms at either shoulder. Melanie's heart pounded for a moment as the grounding force of the individuals on either side began to come into sharp focus of their minds.
On their left sat Archie, on his soft face that damn smile and the glint of whimsy in his eyes. They had not seen that in the Wizened in so long. To their right sat the metal flesh, Linden. The ogre observed the Moth with a touch of sadness in their eyes, a stack contrast to their mischievous grin. It was a singular feeling that enraptured them as they dragged both of the Eidolons to them as if trying to engulf them into their being.
Family.
They tried to speak, but no words came. It was a memory given flesh, a reminder of a promise made. They ached in their nothingness, without body and form. They wanted to cry, to sing, to ask them if they had made a mistake, to bind this moment into reality. Wipe all that had followed away, write it again.
Melanie-no, that was not their name. Riley felt it then, that pull from inside. They breathed in, letting it fill them, give them form. The world expands; it presses the edge of the emptiness. The end of the void. They breathed in the pool; they could feel it again, not like before, never like it had been before. They screamed to become. To become more. A promise had been made, and it was to be kept.
The cocoon constricted in a final attempt to maintain itself. A prison of flesh, a cage, desperately trying to quell the flame, the burning change. It splits as the threads are torn asunder. A fire of brilliant silver spreads its wings, banishing the darkness of the void and giving themself form beyond the making of others. It was birthed not of the desires of others, their wishes, and dreams. Not bound by the hunger and whims of another, but by its own volition. A vibrant and beautiful mockery of the Delphine.
"There will always be a battle because safety is never a given.
This time it was just pure... this is a person, and they need help.”
Radiant wings burned,
a singular promise.
Thousands cried, without voices
A lingering scar burned in the mind
Haunted by dreams of the dead.
Beautiful.
Within rhythm
Beyond dreaming
Two I had come for.
Two, I promised.
But there were more,
A dance without time.
Like a lance, striking the hide.
A step,
A flutter,
A Plie.
Pulling at memory and longing.
Tearing against the relentless suffering.
They hadn't thought to send a message. To tell Archie, to say to him they were sorry for the oaths they had broken, the disappointment and failure. But, sorry, they had not spoken to him of this choice, included him in this decision. Riley could hear his protest, the anger hiding his fear, the pain in which he would argue against this choice.
Or to Dani, to say those three simple words they never before dared to say (why had they been so hard to say?). The truth left unspoken. Not even now had they passed the message along to, for another to say in Riley’s stead.
They hadn't thought they needed those messages. They found themselves before this deity of dreams, the realization of their choice. The weight of its finality dawned on them as the spotlight on a dark stage.
“Are you ready?”
“How can I be?”
“We never truly are, are we?”
Lamassu reached out their hands, pressing them into the mantle of the Twilight Dancer without further hesitation. There was the madness of wonder and discovery behind the Sphinx's eyes. They wanted to know, to unravel the Darkling. Taking hold of the magic of the token, pulling it from the sheath that was Riley, a blade to cut away the mask, to cut away the mien. To slice the thread.
The nothingness is so loud.
The darkness wrapped, tugged, and pulled, coiling its scales across their form. Spinning, spinning, and spinning. The cocoon cradled them, time folded and melted in on itself, coming to a boil. Each moment a flashing nova of light comes into existence and ends in a long single ceaseless breath.
"What I will say is that a chance to become a cog in someone else's machine will be a frequent danger whichever path you choose."
Had any choice been their own? Were they no more than a vessel for others’ entertainment? A poppet of flesh, a vessel of others' fantasies and admiration. They felt the thread tugged, yanked, and pulled at the hands of the invisible Norn. Dragged into the Aether beyond understanding.
"My boundaries. My choices. I get to choose. I decide who gets access to me- That decision is mine. I want that decision to be mine."
Their light seemed endless, blinding in its brilliance and empty all at once. The Darkling raised their long delicate fingers, trying to catch them in the radiance. The illumination within cracked and glistened, the carapace they once called flesh rolled back, peeling in long thin dried sheets, like bark whittled from a tree. Slowly unraveling them the glow of everything.
"There are no second chances to be worthy of because we create them ourselves, with sweat and Glamour and effort."
It hurt, ripping and tearing at their existence. They felt thin, stretched, and rent. This was not new. They had been consumed, for not being enough, shredded by tooth and tongue. By contempt as well as lust. Others had made those choices for them. Yet, this felt different, like an escape. They knew that feeling. They had felt this before, burned by brilliance, cleansed by thorns.
"Everyone is changed by time, even those whose time wasn't filled by waking nightmares. And we were affected by them, but by how much is neither a possible nor useful metric to measure. Our past is part of us, but so is our present and our future. The past cannot holistically define us."
Where did they begin, where did they end? The boundaries of self began to fade from their mind. They were unraveling in the dance of the aether. They could feel the motions, the movements that had once guided them, undoing, becoming more. Who were they, in the eyes of the light? In the eyes of others?
"Remember, that if dreams were free."
What was a name? They tugged for it, tried to grab the thread of their fate. It had wound before them, a gossamer path twisted, knotted. Fading. It bled away from them as they became not but light, a swirling pool of dream and memory cocooned in the weave of possibility.
Nothing,
stillness,
ecstatic.
T̸̢̂h̶̻̅ḙ̸̈ ̶͔͝f̸̠̈́l̴̏͜e̸̪͛s̸͓̆h̷͉̍ ̴͈͘i̶̪͌s̴͔͐ ̴͕̏a̸͓̅ ̶͖͑c̷̪͆ö̴̡́c̶̨͗o̶͕̓o̷͍͠n̶͉̓
"𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓯𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮, 𝔀𝓮 𝓫𝓾𝓲𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓽𝓸𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻:"
Melanie's eyes opened; for a moment, the soft fluorescent lights of the pool caused them to squint, adjusting. The hot vegas air-kissed their wet cheeks. They had been crying. Their feet floated gently in the illuminated pool, its warmth sending a chill up their spine. The tactile reality of it all was an overwhelming sensory overload.
̴̢͇͕͓̦̲̩̦͐͆̓͋̑̓T̴͓̖̘̪̣͐͊̃̀̈́͑̊ḧ̵̼̫́́̀̆̈́͐͝͠ė̶̪̱͓̪͇̬͈̈̉̈́̈́͜ ̷̣̖͓̦̬͒̃p̷̨̢̛̺͖̖̰̆̈́͒̈́̚â̴̧̫͔̲͇̓̄̌͗́͑̕t̸͍̩̣̫͙͈͑ͅḧ̴̻́͠ ̷̥̞̝̟͇̝̦̈̀̆̈́̌̈͂̕į̷̼̬̝̲͖̎̽͌̿͠ṣ̴̘͎̰͎͍̂̾̓ ̷̩̇̎e̸̬̯͎͌̃c̴͈̟͓̅s̸̹̲̩̖̜̯͓̑̋͒̅͝ͅt̸̡̲̙͇̰͈̓̑͝â̴͎̲͖̲̮̔̀t̷̡̟̩͂̄̊̅i̷̧̧̧̛̼̖̘̹̿͐c̸̯̳̭̘̮̽̾̄̅̂͝ "
“𝓞𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓽𝓱𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭, 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓾𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓼. "
Their head spun before they felt the weight of two familiar forms at either shoulder. Melanie's heart pounded for a moment as the grounding force of the individuals on either side began to come into sharp focus of their minds.
̶̢̡̬̦̆͛͆̑̆͆͘ͅB̸̡̧̯͎͗͆̍͊́̑̿ę̴̝̪͂̌͛͒͝ͅy̴̩̖̳̰͚̤̓͌͋͊̎̈̚͘ͅő̷͔̯̠n̴͎̼͉̪̈́̕ḋ̷̥̝̪ ̷̩͕͍̱̠͛͛b̴̧̢̫̯͎͇̣͊͒̍̌́͘͜͠l̸̡͙̥͒͒̓͑͂͗͝o̴̧̢̩̐͂̀̈̋͘͘ö̴̮́́̈́d̶̻̱̹͝ ̸̨̡̮̺̬͔͍̎̔a̶̛̼̘͛͋̽̊̉̚n̵̢͚̘͍̦̍̐̌̍̏̆̾͜͝ͅd̶͎̦͕̻̖͔̒̿̓́̉͘͠ ̸͖̥̖̦̫̃̌̾̀̐͒͛̕f̴͖̦̘͔̰͖̓̾̊̂̌̋̚͠ļ̶̧̗͎̼̊̈́͒̌̊̚͝e̴̫̟̐̋͋s̴̪͔͓̫͈͆̒͘̚h̸̨̛͔̥̠̄̽̆̏͗̎̽ͅ
"𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝓮, 𝓰𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮 𝓷𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓶.”
On their left sat Archie, on his soft face that damn smile and the glint of whimsy in his eyes. They had not seen that in the Wizened in so long. To their right sat the metal flesh, Linden. The ogre observed the Moth with a touch of sadness in their eyes, a stack contrast to their mischievous grin. It was a singular feeling that enraptured them as they dragged both of the Eidolons to them as if trying to engulf them into their being.
”̷͕̇̍̿͠S̶̭̿̔́͌ȃ̸̡̟̅̌̚c̸̯͠ȑ̴͎̮̗̾͗í̵̩͛f̴̭̯̝̓́͝į̸̠̫̀ͅç̷̻̇̎ě̵͇ ̸̛̩̭̹̹̓̅͝f̵̹͈̈́̕ȏ̷̧̜͊̓r̷̫̫͓̯̐ ̴̹́̓̓b̴̭̹͚͙͗e̸̲̪̿̌ä̷̱̤͕́̊ũ̵̡͚͙̌̓̕t̶̬̘̳̅y̶̰̳͋͐̉
"𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓭𝓪𝔂, 𝓘 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓪𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓶𝓮, "
Family.
They tried to speak, but no words came. It was a memory given flesh, a reminder of a promise made. They ached in their nothingness, without body and form. They wanted to cry, to sing, to ask them if they had made a mistake, to bind this moment into reality. Wipe all that had followed away, write it again.
̸͈̆̀ͅḇ̴̮̲͆̑̋́̚͝â̴̪̮̑͆̒̀̉̑̐n̴̲̻̥̅͜a̴̭͍̣̣̣̤͕̟̿́ļ̷̳̱̪̳͔͒̈́̄̾̐i̷̧̠͑̓̃̽͊̈͝t̶̮̻̅̊̚̕͠y̷̧͚̻̤͕̘̼̾͒̑̔́̒̂ ̶̗͍̠̈́̄́ị̴͂̂̆͝͝ͅş̴̧̜͉̲̼̗̐̀͂̏͂ ̴͇̖͔͐̊͜ḑ̵͓̼͖̞͚͙̳̈̂͌́̇̏ẹ̸͖̯̤̹̔̍͊̈́̄̓͜͠͝a̷̛̼͉̣̗͈͚̗̍͆͊͂̾͜͠t̵̛̙̎̀̒h̴̨̘̱͈̔͊̓͂̆́͝
"𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓘 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝔂𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓻."
Melanie-no, that was not their name. Riley felt it then, that pull from inside. They breathed in, letting it fill them, give them form. The world expands; it presses the edge of the emptiness. The end of the void. They breathed in the pool; they could feel it again, not like before, never like it had been before. They screamed to become. To become more. A promise had been made, and it was to be kept.
The cocoon constricted in a final attempt to maintain itself. A prison of flesh, a cage, desperately trying to quell the flame, the burning change. It splits as the threads are torn asunder. A fire of brilliant silver spreads its wings, banishing the darkness of the void and giving themself form beyond the making of others. It was birthed not of the desires of others, their wishes, and dreams. Not bound by the hunger and whims of another, but by its own volition. A vibrant and beautiful mockery of the Delphine.
"There will always be a battle because safety is never a given.
This time it was just pure... this is a person, and they need help.”
Radiant wings burned,
a singular promise.
Thousands cried, without voices
A lingering scar burned in the mind
Haunted by dreams of the dead.
F̷̢̞͈̠̺̘̝͎̥͎͎̯̺͈̭̾̌̾͗̄͌̉̓͆̇̀͠͝ȋ̴͎͚̭̬̗͙̱̞̰͎͇̰̻̀́̅͌̈́̀̽͆ṅ̴̢͕̯̯̞͙̻̦̣͚͕̫̈́̿̐̚͜͜ͅd̶̙̻̯̤̳̳͑́̅̏̋̂͆̑̀̕͘ ̷̧̝͍͍̥͗͛̕w̷̭̺̜̲̥͝ͅh̴̘̹͕̯̐͑̿̌̑̿́̋̍̕̕͝͝á̷̧̫̬͉̲͈̠̞͑̄̽̊̇̄̚̕͝t̴̨̏̒͗̿̃̋̿̄̍́̅̀͛͝ ̷̘̜̱͓́͋̓w̴̻͕͈̬̱͎̦̰͖̱͌̏͂͛̾̾̒́̀̇̇̚͝͝ͅe̶͇͒͊ ̴̧̨͈̟̟̘̥̦̹͔͎͚̚s̴̯͔̮̲̙̻̒͌͒e̷͕̠͉̺͉͚̺͚͔̋̂́̃͑̀͌͛͌̾͌̇̊̿͜e̴̢̮̭̘̱̩͐́̿̈́̐̊̃͑͌́̑̌ͅk̷̟̝̱̠̦̙̠̮̪͇̗̲͑̓̐
Torrent of repetition, unresolved pain wails
Talons gripped into their psyche.
Grief torn and stretched.
I have become more.Beautiful.
Within rhythm
Beyond dreaming
Two I had come for.
Two, I promised.
But there were more,
They ring like bells, torn in the wind.
Misery bites with teeth long forgot
Sorrow was mute-silenced by weight.
Devouring hunger,
to be hallow.
Wings beat—light rebels.A dance without time.
Like a lance, striking the hide.
A step,
A flutter,
A Plie.
Pulling at memory and longing.
Tearing against the relentless suffering.
At long last
I found it.
An answer sang,
Peace.
