aionlogs | EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

The Empty Throne Pt 2

ESCAPE

As more and more of the prisoners awaken to the Pleroma's power, it soon becomes clear that conflict is inevitable. Strength that was locked away blossoms once again, and simply waiting is no longer an option; those that remain in the cavern have made their choice, and they will not be kept there so easily.

By means that may not be immediately apparent, the Pleroma have found themselves able to cast a spell that will ensure their freedom... but only if they can last the half hour it may take to complete. Whatever this power, Xishen, the Aion orchestrator of the Kenoma's ritual, seems able to sense it. As it begins, she will appear at each of the Kenoma's sides.

"The Pleroma has taken hold of them," she says. "Stop them now, or when you see them again, it will be as your mortal enemies. If you believe in the Kenoma's promise, take a stand. The Regent is watching."

For those that heed her, it will not be hard to find the congregation of Pleroma, the first seeds of their teleportation magic taking form. What's more, the fires of their hope have been stoked by this new chance at survival, granted them a surge of energy born of the Pleroma, compensating for the poor state of their bodies. The tension comes to a head, between those that would follow the Regent's path towards a better universe, and those that would seize the wild power of the Pleroma to escape.

Whatever violence ensues, eventually it will come to an end. Despite the Kenoma's efforts, the teleportation spell will come to fruition, enveloping the Pleroma in a sea of light and warmth. The Kenoma can only watch as fractals of blinding color whisk the Pleroma away.

VALLEY OF INNOCENCE

You will find yourself at the Shrine of the Innocent, surrounded by a valley of flourishing wildflowers. As you step from the shade of the monument, you will find your arrived here just in time to enjoy a warm spring spring morning, the sound of birds and gentle breezes tickling your ears. The sun slowly drifts past the horizon, its rays reaching out to you, as if in comfort. The air itself is alight with a strange aura of peace, as if committing violence here would be a sacrilege. There are no man made structures as far as your eyes can see.

Flowers of all shapes and sizes can be found here, and so can fresh water and various fruits and berries. All of them are safe to eat, and seemingly grow in abundance. There are animals here as well, all the common types one would expect from a place like Earth, with the occasional odd addition. While you can try to hunt them, you will find yourself unable to follow through on any attempts to hurt the creatures here. In turn, they regard you as familiar, and will fearlessly wander close as they inspect these new arrivals. In the distance, you may even catch sight of what appears to be a unicorn, only for its ephemeral shape to disappear from sight just as quickly.

The Pleroma will find safety and comfort here for a time, before they recover enough to travel onward. At some point during the afternoon of the first day, they may spot the occasional humanoid figure moving in the distance; when attempting to move in their direction, they will find an assortment of clothing set out across the grass as if in offering. It will come in many sizes but in mostly plain colors, fitting a general aesthetic of 'things a fantasy peasant might wear'. There will also be some blankets, wrapped cheese, jams, jerky, and bread left alongside them.

While there are trees and brush enough to find shelter, the Pleroma will find they hardly need to while resting here. The weather will be picturesque, a comfortable temperature even at night, and there will be no disruptive rain or aggressive wind. Of course, nothing lasts forever, and even though there could stay here for days, what if the Regent's forces are on their way? Once again, they must find the strength to carry on.

THE TRIWATER

As the Pleroma vanish, those claimed by the Kenoma are left in the darkness of the throne room. The Hylician soldiers are clearly agitated by the fighting, but Xishen herself seems unflustered. She will only sigh before quietly coming to the aid of any Kenoma that still need it, providing some light healing magics and explaining that their work here is over. With the Pleroma gone, all that's left to do is to return to Achamoth.

Things move quickly from there. The camp grounds are packed up, and soon enough the Kenoma will be ushered towards the river at the edge of the forest, to board a particularly large river vessel. As the Hylician soldiers prepare to go their separate ways, you will be told that you are to take the Triwater river to the capital city of Achamoth, where you will finally meet your new master, the Regent. The vessel is big enough for all of you, and it will set off the moment everyone is boarded. Suddenly, the world of entrapment and ruins you've been living in since your arrival will be left behind, leaving you to ponder the nature of your future.

The boat itself is well equipped and comfortable for what it is. A variety of colorful hammocks are hung in the lower decks and are open to be claimed for the journey back, which will take a day or two. The Kenoma will be offered a change of clothes of a similar style to what they already have if necessary, and there are plenty of blankets and cushions available to make life in the hold more comfortable. There are dice available for games of chance as well as some mystifying decks of cards that seems to have twelve suits with five cards each, themed around the Legacies. The twelfth suit is for the Regent.

Though the sailors controlling the vessel will mostly keep to themselves and leave the Kenoma alone, one of them will occasionally play harp music on the deck. Though they probably don't actually need help running the ship, they will let the Kenoma help them with chores and ship running tasks if they are so inclined; generally speaking, these sailors just seem like normal people, albeit a bit shy of their passengers. If you're polite to them, they may even gives you a river tour of Horos. On this ride alone, you'll get to see several magnificent bridges spanning the Triwater's width. At night, you are treated to a clear spring sky filled with stars.

As you make it closer to Achamoth, you'll notice the landscape shift, becoming mountainous and dotted with more and more military watch posts. The land becomes increasingly lifeless in a way that's hard to put your finger on, nature giving way to man-made creations of impressive architectural prowess. Soon, you will meet the person behind it all.

QUESTIONS

Can my Kenoma character fight against other Kenoma and/or help the Pleroma?
Yes, though if you do this you must describe what your character has done in a reply to the "Committed Actions" top-level below. This way, the mods can be aware of what happened and have your character treated accordingly. They are unlikely to receive immediate consequences if they don't hurt their fellow Kenoma, but their choices will follow them into Achamoth. If a Kenoma vs Kenoma conflict escalates into serious violence (attempted or successful) committed by the Kenoma rebel, Xishen will intervene and consequences will happen immediately which may restrict their actions until the next event post.

Can our characters leave the valley?
They can, yes, but really this event is just meant to cover the day or two they spend recovering before finding a more permanent place to go. You are free to have your character investigate the valley and probe the spaces beyond it, but please save any plans for large scale travel to the next event, which will be happening on April 2nd. The game will move into a 1:1 time ratio as of then.

Can our characters leave the boat?
Technically yes, but any Kenoma who wander too far will get in trouble. You are expected to report to the Regent, and behaving as if you are considering doing otherwise will not make an good impression.

Does the hope-based Pleroma boost last into the valley?
The boost to Pleroma characters will fade shortly after arriving in the valley, like coming down from a high. They'll have to recover the normal way from there.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i. for silco - hamster ball
[ Under normal circumstances, Matt would want to ask a lot more questions before acting. What is the Pleroma being first and foremost. But everything's happening too fast for that, and Matt's left with two main impressions:

1. He doesn't like the sound of mortal enemies.
2. He can't imagine forcing Kenoma on someone. Faith and conviction don't work like that–whatever bonds can be forged through bullying people, they'll be brittle.

Which means when he spots Silco brandishing a knife at one of their fellow captives, Matt barely thinks. He holds out his hand, breath hitching as words roil through his mind: Rider on the night boat, granter of renewal I call to you–

And a gleaming, golden sphere appears around him. Though Silco can still breathe, implying some degree of permeability, and can see Matt's gasping face, the sphere feels solid to the touch. ]

Sorry, [ Matt says breathlessly. ] I can't let you do that.

ii. a wrench in things - ota kenoma
[ Lest you think Matt's a one-trick pony, he's more than willing to step in when other Kenomas seem on the verge of violence.

Maybe you find your weapon jerked from your hands by an unseen force. Or perhaps something tugs at your clothes, trying to trip you up. When it comes down to it, Matt's not above setting the odd fire to create a distraction.

He won't set you on fire, of course. Kenoma means family. Or is that a different three-syllable word …? ]

iii. escape - ota pleroma
[ There's a lot going on right now, so it's perfectly plausible that you've managed to miss Matt's interference on the Pleromas' behalf. But maybe it's you he's helped–by tripping up a Kenoma, disarming them, distracting them, or even detaining them long enough for you to get away.

The teleportation spell is gearing up. Even though he's not a part of the casting, Matt can feel its thrum as it gains strength. Not the molten, heart-harmonious connection he's used to feeling around magic; it's more like putting his hand to the window of a house warmed by its fireplace. He doesn't have long, so he feels like he has to at least try to convince the nearest person-- ]

You can stay. [ He's earnest, despite his breathlessness, minor injuries, and generally overwhelmed demeanor. ] It's not as scary as it seems. I promise, it's okay.

[ooc: Wanna do something else? Hit up my plotting comment or reach me at

artistformerlyknownas. I have plans to do a boat prompt, but I want to wait and see if that changes based on NPC reaction to his … everything. ]

Edited 2022-03-21 00:49 (UTC)

[ Silco had been waving his knife, yes. His mouth moved, speaking words, but before he could attack, or do anything else -- the sheen of a golden glow tinged the world around him, and he frowned, hissing slightly when he moved to get out of the dome.

What was this nonsense? He didn't know, but his shoulder hit it with a soft thud. His lip curled, one perpetually-widened eye moved, his other trailing behind, and he slashed at it with the dagger he'd taken. It bounced off, with a sharp cling, and Silco turned his head, before he caught sight of someone, who approached, breathless.

Whether it was this, or something else, didn't matter. Silco's lips peeled back. ]

One of them? [ He asked, head nodded toward the area of the cave, where the supposed ritual was happening. He took a step, about all he could within the dome, and tried the other side, another attempt to slice at it, to no avail. ]

[ Despite Matt's thudding heartbeat, his runaway adrenaline, the fact that he was still getting his breath back from the spell, that question stopped him short. He followed Silco's gaze to the ritual in progress; when he looked back, his expression could almost be called sheepish. ]

Uh ... one of you. Actually.

One of us?

[ He shook his head. ]

We're not gonna convince them by force.

[ Silco looked him up and down -- mismatched gaze eerie still, in the dim light. He stopped pacing, but despite how small he looked, he still filled the bubble somehow, like a dark presence, filling whatever space he inhabited. ]

You must be joking.

[ But Silco wouldn't say one way or the other. There was no accounting for taste. ]

You think...what, nice words, and they'll play along? Did you spend any time talking to them? People like that don't respect words, or pretty ways to convince people, you know.

Or do you not have experience trying to convince the masses to change their mind?

[ Looking Matt up and down revealed a frame best described as "twiggy," and a lack of any features that could rightly be called imposing. Even the scar across his left cheek, faint with age and thin, didn't say don't mess with me so much as this one time at fencing camp.

He had something of a presence around him too. Though Matt's was more like the haze of an aura photograph. Smudged glitter, light filtered through a roseate lens.

He visibly stumbled at Silco's very good points, previously unconsidered. Matt wasn't even sure what Pleroma was, except that the Aion made it sound like an infection--and even if he didn't trust her, that didn't make her wrong. ]

Well, luckily, we don't have to convince the masses, [ Matt rallied. ] Just a few people who've been through the same thing we have.

I don't know, words worked on me.

[ And a small amount of hair-stroking.

(Because no circumstances, however dire, could fully compromise Matt's eye for aesthetics, he noted as he peered through the shield spell: Heterochromia. Pretty.) ]

[ Silco scoffed. ]

Individuals like these? I think the answer is no.

[ He stood, slightly hunched in the ball -- or was he always hunched over slightly? It was hard to say, but the man Matt had trapped was lean, and somewhat small. The frame of someone who probably spent a great deal of time hungry, but was now old, and aged. A stripe of white in his hair the only real distinguishing feature that wasn't...the large dark scar, and glowing pit of an eye. At least one thing looked normal, compared to the rest of him. ]

People like this? So often, they're obsessed with the idea of goodness, they will ignore whatever rot festers beneath their feet. [ It's almost practiced, a few alterations, but he'd given this before. ]

Do you really think someone who is ready to escape, will come along nicely? After making it through so long of that illness, only to -- [ A fist clenched ] -- Suddenly be given the gift of power?

I'm afraid you're wrong.

Edited (oop, needed an edit D:) 2022-03-26 05:44 (UTC)

[ Matt frowned as he watched the other man's face. That resonated with him--the idea of goodness, as opposed to the doing of it. History books were full of people who did terrible things in the name of righteousness, blinded by the very devotion that animated them. ]

I don't think they're gonna come along at all, [ he said after a moment, in a quieter tone. More even. ] But if we make them, we'll lose them for good. They'll just know us as jailors.

This way, maybe it'll be ... annoyingly slow, careful work, but we stand a chance of deradicalizing them. Getting them back on side. I think we all need each other to make this work.

[ Silco scoffed. He was, of course, more focused on the hypocrisy of them. Silco was aware of who he was, after all, but he didn't voice that with this one. He seemed...soft-hearted. Weak, was the word that came to mind, and while Matt talked a lot about nice words, Silco also knew the virtue of holding ones tongue in some situations.

So he let him talk. Convincing people. Slow, careful work. The sort of work someone from his past would have tried to say was the best way -- the kind that protected the weakest in the pack, and made sure the strong were hampered.

Silco shook his head. ]

Better to have weak prisoners than powerful adversaries. [ He finally said, his tone idle. He took the knife, and flipped it in his hand, caught the handle when it came back down. ] If you're so worried that we "need" each other, you're already on the path to losing them. They hold power over you.

[ What they needed, was to accept the truth. If they didn't, they would have to find out the hard way. If they were now with newfound power, it would be harder, unless there was power to match. While Silco understood the need for words, convincing, he understood even more the need to take action. If they were going to be lost, and have more power, then what would be the reason to try to keep convincing them? They'd made their choice, after all.

Next time, they might be at them with knives and powers even more violent than before. ]

[ Matt didn't agree, but he had to hand it to the other man: "Better to have weak prisoners than powerful adversaries" had the ring of a battle-worn aphorism. Something you'd find in Sun Tzu. He wondered if that was why he spoke with such confidence--if maybe that was what Silco had been before, on whatever world he came from. Some kind of police chief or mob boss, a leader who made bloody decisions. ]

You can destroy an adversary if you make him your friend, [ Matt noted.

A slight pause, his gaze drawn to the will-o-wisp glow of the other man's eye. He smiled eventually, faint. ]

Besides, by your definition, the only way to make sure you're not being subjugated is to be alone. And it's a little late for that.

[ Not that he felt particularly connected right now. Maybe insofar as they were all bound by shared experiences, survival of staggering loss, and--for some of them--a new purpose. But it was the purpose that mattered to Matt right now. ]

[ Matt certainly hit the nail on the head, for if there was something about Silco that could be a guarantee, it would be the fact that he was a man who would never trust, or rely on another, barring one glaring exception, of which Silco would not speak of -- particularly when debating philosophy with someone who...what? Had decided that his method wasn't good enough, so he should intervene?

Already, his mind considered. He was, of course, not one keen on authority, but he wouldn't say no to using it, if it meant he looked more favorable. ]

I think you don't understand something. [ He finally said, and tested the edge of the blade in his hand, had tipped, one too-wide, blackened eye with a red pit glowed outward, his other closed, as if thinking. ]

That's precisely how one avoids that. We may have similar circumstances, but if you're keen on... making friends -- [ Eye opened, head tipped, a tone of mocking there -- ] -- You've found the worst possible person you could.

I don't make friends.

[ He'd learned, with a shock of cold water, large fingers on his throat, blinding pain in his eye -- what little good friendship or words could do. ]

If our new foes are too weak, or lack the resolve, to seize power, what would make them a worthwhile "ally" in the end?

[ The word ally said, well enough, what Silco thought of even that. ]

[ Matt was surprised to hear as much from Silco. Not because he struck him as someone who yearned for friendship--more because Matt had thought he'd been clear that he was referring to the "other side" with his own comment.

Then again, he could be seen as treating Silco like an enemy at the moment. That was fair enough. ]

I think of us more like colleagues, [ Matt said mildly. For now, he decided not to elaborate on his suspicion that he and Silco and the rest of Team Kenoma were bound by ineffable knots. Connections profound as an undersea trench, intricate as the fungal networks beneath aging forests. It didn't seem likely to be taken well.

So in the moment, all Matt did was shake his head. ]

There's a place for everything. Even the things that we don't see immediate utility in. Death's like that, where I come from, and destruction, just because it's--painful to us, in the near term. But it's necessary to make room for something new.

[ Silco breathed out, an audible half-chuckle that sounded less... abrasive, now that the order of how things would go was established. Death, at least, was familiar to him. The way of things? Also familiar enough. ]

Where I'm from? You either take what you need, or you perish, crushed under the boot of someone faster, smarter, or simply more driven than you.

I'm only interested in seizing what we must, to survive. [ Power was what others listened to, wasn't it? Nothing else actually mattered, other than true power. ]

It's perhaps selfish, but... I come from a very selfish place. People that have been unable to take what's needed? Like them? [ He gestured outward, one hand almost dismissive in the motion. ] They've made a choice now, haven't they? If we are not to seize them, or eliminate them now...

Then it becomes our problem, later. Our weakness for refusing to excise them like rot, before they could grow more dangerous.

[ Matt frowned, thoughtful, as Silco talked. Maybe he was wrong to think so, but he felt like this was a little more--revelatory, self-aware? Something like that. There was a piece of Matt that was inclined to give a self-professed selfish person some credit for admitting they were selfish.

Slowly, he nodded. ]

I guess I am ... taking on some risk, this way, [ he allowed. ] But I wanna make a better world. I want it to start as soon as possible. And I think that means not getting rid of potential allies.

[ He wasn't sure Silco would be impressed with that, but it was the truth. The only truth he knew how to say. Matt expelled a sigh, reaching out to rap lightly on the edge of the shield. It made a sound like a knock, but it felt like the echo of a bell. ]

This should wear off in five minutes, [ he said. ] Maybe ten. I'll come back and check on you.

[ And with that, Matt turned to leave, headed back towards the noise and clash of the conflict. ]

[ The teleportation spell's nearly ready now.

Or at least, that's what Matt nervily surmises. If he were casting it, he'd know for sure. He's never been hugely gifted in reading auras or energies, but from the inside of magic, it never fails to feel like part of him--like he's being lifted on the crest of a luminous wave.

Matt has a weapon, a sword he's telekinetically jerked away from one of the soldiers, but he's not holding it like a weapon because he has no idea how swords work. In his hands, it looks more like a large stage prop he's trying to return to the right actor.

He's not sure how he ended up so close to the person who, as far as he can tell, is the central spellcaster. Unconscious yearning to be close to the rising magic, perhaps. What he does know is they're running out of time. Matt means to say something like you can still stop or stay with us, it's not too late. But what comes out instead is: ]

Do you need anything?

[ an object none of them know is so integral, as critical to their well-being as it is is held in Abel's hands; this process is one unfamiliar to him, foreign - and yet strangely intuitive, as if part of him remembers it somewhere deep inside himself. if this is 'magic,' then... suppose his first taste of it is one he enjoys.

something he enjoys decidedly less is the cacophony of bloodshed and violence that has filled the cavern instead of quiet suffering. they've traded one form of misery for another - but this one, at least, will see them away from this place. for good, Abel hopes.

...yes, he hopes a great many things. like that escape will be plausible at all. he's passed along the 'spell' that Xishen taught him, after all - the same Xishen who had ordered their capture. somehow... he still has faith.

blue eyes snap up from where he had been softly frowning into his shard, an intensity of concentration at his brow briefly contorting into surprise at the voice too close for comfort. --ah; someone has managed to sneak up on him (not a difficult task, right now). but any wariness he might have felt is evaporating as he realizes the hushed message passed from the stranger's lips--

Do you need anything?

...and all at once, that light of surprise burns brighter in his eyes-- before there is gratitude, and something rueful. ]

I do, sir--

[ Abel takes a small step, adjusting his posture; the tension there is stress, the sense of time running out, the hope that the injuries his fellows-- and would-be enemies-- have received aren't fatal and can be tended to in short order. (he, too, hasn't managed to avoid getting his fair share of the Kenoma's ire; his face is... well, more bruise than anything else, and his nose is definitely busted. teenagers, man. it's rough for a pacifist out here.) but despite getting his ass thoroughly handed to him, and the fact that he can tell this man isn't 'like him,' brandishing that weapon as it were...

he isn't afraid, and his expression is plaintive. ]

--For you to come with us. It isn't too late-- it's almost finished, and, I-- I can make a grab for you, make it convincing. You can pretend you had no choice in the matter, if that would make it easier, so--

[ so come with them, alright?

whether he's sensed something in this man's spirit, has a gut feeling... it doesn't matter. the offer stands, and Abel seems sincere. ]

[ Oh, gosh.

Back home, Matt could only have dreamed of a moment like this, swaying in the thrum of a concert while songs play about love in a dangerous time, or taking a last-chance joyride. A handsome stranger saying "come with me, I'll grab you and take you away from here"? That's iconic stuff. Of course, there are no concerts anymore. No bars or festivals, no streetlights misted with nighttime fog. All those indie musicians Matt used to love are dead.

Startled, he takes a step back to match Abel's forward. His eyes meet the other man's, Matt's muddy hazel locking onto a blue that feels, to him, like a clear and fragile morning. ]

I can't do that, [ he protests. ] I mean ... I don't want to.

[ Matt frowns as he peers into the stranger's face. (The shard registers at the edges of his awareness, though not its purpose. That'll come later, if at all.) The other man looks hurt, and tired; Matt's not great at judging what other people might be thinking, but he thinks he detects a real kindness in his expression, beneath the bruises.

He shakes his head slightly. ]

I wanna fix all this.

[ to have his offer declined doesn't exactly surprise him, but the disappointment is worn naked upon his face as the priest regards his newfound 'Kenoma' friend. this man doesn't radiate the malicious intent so many others had before him, even if it had often come from a conflicted place of grim resolve.

no, this... this is different. ]

...Fixing this-- that... admittedly? Sounds quite nice, sir.

[ Abel's smile is small and tentative, and obviously a little strained considering their situation - but it's genuine. he knows he isn't the only one among them - and the Kenoma - to believe it didn't need to come to this. but 'fixing' it? that... that is definitely something to strive toward. ]

Getting out of here is a step in that direction, or... I think-- at least, it's the best option among a lot of, ah. Not very great ones. But if you can offer me something better, then-- please. I'm all ears, alright?

[ and true to his word, he's watching Matt with attentiveness, a captive audience to anything that leaves the Kenoma's lips. lay it on him, Matt!! ]

[ This is actually a much better reception than Matt expected, given that the would-be escapees are taking an awfully firm stand against the deal Matt accepted. On top of that, Abel's kind of in the middle of something.

Naturally, as soon as Matt's invited to expound, every coherent thought flies from his brain. He's left with the first breathless remark his mouth can make. ]

I agree. Our options suck. [ A faint, startled smile, more a twitch of his lips than anything else. ] And I don't know how great this sounds, but I just, know ...

There were a lot of people where I came from, right? Amazing artists, and scientists trying to cure cancer, and like, babies who were born that day--a lot of them were better and cooler people than I'll ever be. And they all deserve another chance. [ Matt blinks a moment. It'd be incredibly stupid and un-suave of him to cry in front of this nice stranger. Luckily, tears don't seem imminent. ] Everything has to die sooner or later to make room for something new. It can feel scary when it's our turn, but that's how things keep going. What's left now is ...

[ He swallows. ]

It's barely anything. Shadows and rot. We have to restart, we just--

We have to.

[ Abel's gentle grip on the shard in his hand tightens as Matt speaks; there is such sincerity in these words that it's a little hard not to be moved by the sentiments behind them for how genuine they feel. his world, too, was much like the one described-- filled with people being born, people living their lives, building families, trying to survive and make the world around them beautiful (even if not all of them fit into such categories, of course). the world-- just like life-- is beautiful. and the world, just like life... isn't all beautiful.

death is a part of that. part of a natural cycle. but what Matt is suggesting... that is anything but, isn't it? ]

...Do you believe it's gone, sir? Your world?

[ does he believe what had been conveyed to them in that surreal, too-real dream? Abel is among those who has refused to accept its validity, stubbornly clinging to the hope that there are homes, worlds left to return to. that all the faces of this loved ones, those he cares for, remain.

but he knows he is in the minority. and he also understands how so grievous a loss is more than sufficient motivator for a man to accept what Matt has accepted; knowing if that is the case... it would go far in helping them reach some kind of common ground, even if they might not see eye-to-eye, in the end. ]

[ Matt frowns, surprised at the question. ]

They all are.

[ There's a hint of a question in there. Everyone Matt's talked to about it has been just as sure as he is that their worlds are gone, extinguished. Hell, he and Amos thought they might be dead themselves, experiencing the final synapse fireworks that precede brain shutdown.

This guy sounds like he believes something different. More optimistic. And Matt can't blame him. If he could have identified any scrap of hope to cling to himself, if he'd had a glimmer of evidence that anything out there was left, he might've swung right into denial. The truth is so hard to bear.

One thing, at least, he feels he can address right now. ]

Um ... my name's Matt, by the way. You can call me Matt.

[ Sir is very nice, but it makes him feel like an impostor. ]

[ Matt is a very disarming sort of fellow, Abel's finding; perhaps it's unwise to drop his guard, but it appears that he has. some more of the tension has leaked out of his posture as Matt introduces himself, and the priest gently shifts his hold on his Shard, freeing up a hand to offer in a (very gentle) shake. ]

Abel, [ he offers-- and after a brief hesitation, he adds: ] Father Abel Nightroad, Mr. Matt-- having a great deal of faith is in my job description, you see, so-- you'll have to forgive me if you find I'm not quite ready to give up on both the places we call home...

[ it's almost apologetic - as though he can understand where Matt is coming from, but...

yes, there is that whole 'unable to see eye-to-eye' thing, huh? even so, if this conversation has proven anything-- it solidifies there's no reason that the two need to come to blows over differences in viewpoints, at the very least...!! ]

[ As Abel extends a hand, Matt realizes he's still holding onto this freaking sword. Abruptly, he sets it to the side; it hangs in midair in the spot where his hands release it, leftover momentum sending it into a slow rotation. Very gently, Matt shakes Abel's hand back. ]

Father Nightroad. Abel. [ Not quite able to decide between the name that seems respectful and the one that feels natural, Matt goes with both. His lips twitch again, though this time the expression is more on the frowning end than smiling. Maybe it's to be expected when a(n irreconcilable?) difference of opinion rears its head, but he feels unsettled. ]

I have faith too, [ Matt says quietly. If he's aware how much of his discomfort is showing on his face, he's not inclined to hide it; he keeps looking right at Abel with those earnest, troubled eyes. ] I believe in a fresh start.

[ that bit with sword is... neat?? yes, it's neat-- and Abel is briefly distracted by its motion through the air before he accepts that hand, shaking it warmly and with gentility. ]

Father Abel, Mr. Matt~! It's what friends call me, so it'll make me quite pleased if I can count you among that number.

[ the subject of faith - and where each of them have placed theirs - has some of his smile beginning to wane despite the cheeriness of that statement; he sends a little glance over his shoulder, all too aware that time is of the essence.

but this, too, is important to him-- and he has no qualms giving Matt a moment to speak his piece. ]

...I won't pretend that my world is perfect. I know yours was-- is-- much the same; I doubt there's a single world among any of ours that could claim the lofty title of 'perfection,' right? [ unattainable, that 'perfection.' flawlessness is an impossibility. ] And much as some of those imperfections are beautiful, some are... decidedly not. Even so-- even if our worlds had ended, even if we were given a second chance at building them better-- I don't know that any of us are suited to make that judgment. I don't know of any man that could, Mr. Matt... and I certainly don't think any of us could ask countless lives-- worlds-- to be sacrificed for someone's vision of 'better.' Do you-- do you really believe that?

[ because Abel can clearly see, plain as day, this man possesses a hefty serving of compassion, of empathy. is he really alright with condemning entire worlds to oblivion for the sake of a 'fresh start', when none of them even know what that means...? it's-- terrifying. ]

[ Something almost sad crosses Matt's face at the mention of counting himself among Abel's friends. Still, he nods, giving a murmur of, ] Father Abel.

[ Though if he was discomfited by what Abel had to say before, now Matt's visibly shaken. He shakes his head slightly, but doesn't interrupt. When Abel questions him, he's quick to protest: ]

It's not like that.

[ He swallows. ]

The things I can do, this-- [ A jerk of his head towards the floating sword. ] --magic. It doesn't come from me. It moves through me, but it's bigger than I am. I don't think we have to decide exactly what to do yet, but when we do ...

It won't be just us.

...Then-- tell me, Mr. Matt. Please.

[ he takes another small, barely there step closer; Abel is clearly restraining himself from reaching out in some plaintive effort to anchor this man with him. just like so many others, the priest is absolutely wretched with a fear for what will happen to someone whose heart is not a dark, empty void-- who bleeds so painfully and openly, should Matt go with Xishen to the Regent.

anyone who preaches oblivion, anyone who forces that dark sludge through the veins of others, who warps their minds and wills and vulnerabilities against them is no ally. no friend, not to anyone here. Abel is firm in that belief. ]

That power that moves through you... how do you use it? A sword can be used to take life, but it can also be used to protect it.

[ and so far... Matt looks like he's chosen a path with a decided lack of bloodshed.

and Abel desperately understands how dangerous that is for this man. ]

Edited (do not perceive my inability to type,) 2022-04-05 01:58 (UTC)

EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

Matt Jamison | Kenoma | some closed, some open

I

sorry for the delay!!! on vacation & just got wifi going

no worries!

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starter for @inutilis

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💃!!!

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