News: 
Paragraphite

A rave of returning ravens Read 9208 times

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
A rave of returning ravens
« on: April 01, 2016, 10:05:07 pm »
She was a barren god. And then she had two children, because of spite. She broke bark from the world tree and wrung shapes out of stone from the world floor. In their hearts she kept her coagulated blood. She baked them in the light of three colored suns and made their hair from the stings that holds a star to the smallest moon of its furthest planet.

The children were not made or allowed to love each other, but they did. There was jealousy among the other gods. Eou's heart dried out and then his sister crumbled. After a grieving period of a Forever, their mother asked a monkey from the dirtied planet to help them with the understanding the monkey had of old magic, and new, sparkling crafts.

Eou pulled himself out from the thick mass. The skin was still forming around the dug-out hole in his side, where fine hydraulic pillars were in place of a rib cage. A mess of recently rotten, now recovering monkey organs could be seen behind the pumping metal as skin descended to cover the tell-tale atrocity. The edge of the raised pool was littered with outlets and attached wires. He he held on to one and wretched over them, trails of blue and green drowned in clear mucus roiling out his lips.

A manufactured strain of jelly-fish had started to feed off the plastic content in Earth's seas. The new element had been discovered and hidden by Someone. The God Mother had asked Someone for help.

Eou wiped his mouth, his slathered face. And then felt it with his solid fingers. Sharp bones under soft skin. Wicked with a mask of kindness, a silent, treacherous beauty. His first weapon. The machinations inside him whirred and crunched loudly at first, the skin, now whole, vibrating with the ruckus. He felt spent and new. He noted this flaw in the monkey suit he'd been given as he looked down on his knuckles and his backhand. Mother wasn't close. And his sister, where was she?

The room awoke around him as though to delay having to answer what he wanted to know. Orbs on the ceiling and on the walls were reflected off chrome. He felt alone in this, his second creation, and could sense a heavy sadness turn to something urgent, volatile behind the hydraulic arms. Then he counted the shadows, and learned which ones were from objects, and which ones must be from other things. Eventually the light became kind, or his eyes learned this spectrum.

"Where is she?" he asked, unused leg lifting over the edge. Eou didn't know about the anger and fear in his learning eyes then, but it was magnificent, dancing like too much violence around his pupils. He broke a few wires tumbling to the floor, long body still slick with the unholy, amalgamated potion that had brought him back from starlight death. He didn't know anything about this closed universe of a room, or why there was a void in his stomach, but he knew this creator must be crueler than the god that had taken him and his sister from mother, because at least that god had let them them be snuffed out together. He was on his knees, trying to see the creature through these limited, screaming senses. He rushed the sensory wealth, he always rushed. At first the creature was as large as any new world. And then it smelled like a monkey, took a shape not unlike the designs the gods would pick for themselves. Vanity.

"Do you know what god I was?" he threatened with a throat evacuated of jelly-fish blood. "You don't know what god I will become if you don't tell me where she is."

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #1 on: April 01, 2016, 11:42:05 pm »
The old ways had been lost to the cruelties of time, beaten down beneath a parade of science and surety that broke the faithful and left them with bedtime stories as loyal ghosts of their once-truths.  The devout laced their prayer threads around their fingers and pulled down their sleeves.  The Silence had been foretold, whispered by those Gods with eyes on the future and curiosity in their hearts for the little creatures of Earth.  Generations rolled like the tide and carried the Followers to the darkest depths of secrecy.  To speak of Gods was to insult reason and the temple of technology man had crafted.

The Followers knew, though, the Silence would not last.  When the twin Gods had met their first end, Heaven had been thrown into a chaotic roil of their own affairs and the voices of miniscule humans had been drowned out by the weeping of the Wandering Goddess, Ryll.  Ryll would not mourn for eternity, though, and Heaven would remember those that adored it.  To remain faithful in the Silence was the greatest kind of strength.  Or, so Sylphie was taught.

Priestess, they called her in the sanctum that hid beneath the soaring structure of PanTech Scientific.  On the upper floors, they called her Doctor.  The crown had appeal the hood never could, and though she had dutifully preserved the old prayers and their magic, she had pursued her own divinity in her microcosmic universes of silicon and blood.  She could not raise the dead, but she could rebuild them.  It was only when Ryll had breathed her desires into Sylphie’s dreams that the priestess realized the hood was all she’d ever truly worn.  Time, as it were, was a plaything of the Gods and a master of men.  She had forgotten how small she was.   

Pen on paper as the man-god rose, light scratching and a glance in the direction of his thrashing rebirth.  Creation, unlike its darker half, is always violent.  Old life torn asunder to give way to the gasping new.  Emergence into blinding light.  Existence is a cold place.  She pressed her thumb to the softly glowing panel at her left and the room beyond the glass whirred to life.  Light and the heartbeat of her machines.  Then, the god was not alone.

Sylphie made a hand gesture at the wall and a thin brightness flared at the seam of a door and split it open.  She stepped into the room just as the phoenix child slithered from his incubation pool.  The broiling slime of primordial soup, impregnated with equal parts faith and science, slopped still against his skin.  She had built him something nearly human to exist in, but not quite.  Watching him spark with newness, she was pleased with the artistic liberties she had taken.

She did not answer his first demand, instead scribbling on her papers.  A glance at the display on the far wall.  Vitals stable.  Memory of his self and of his other.  To what extent, of course, she could not be certain.  Heart rate and respiration elevated.  Not unexpected.  His second question, fired like a gun from his recycled vocal cords, pulled her glacial blue stare from the page.

“You are Shining Eou, son of the Wandering Goddess, god of all that is brilliant and cold.  You are a god of beginnings and of creation, twin to Blessed Ia of the Dark.” Sylphie answered.  The woman fell silent.  Then: “Dark Lady Ia could not be fully recovered.  Her nature would not allow it.”

She picked her way across the silver-white floor and crouched before Eou.  “She is with you, though, yet to wake.  In time she will come, if you take the time to grow.  Your Followers would not abandon one half of your whole, of course.”  Sylphie smiled, and there was something very close to tenderness there.  “I am Sylphie, my Brilliant Master, a priestess of the Children of Ryll.  I have brought you to life at the command of the Wandering Goddess.” 

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #2 on: April 02, 2016, 02:02:02 am »
He wondered where the poise came from in this creature. Mother, he realized as Sylphie went on. His breathing sped up and deepened at the mention of Ia, and his natural heat tried to exist inside the carbon bones, and through the recently dead fibers that surrounded them. The coat of man-made miracles bubbled around his shoulders then. The priestess said Ia would come back inside him. For leisure, he and Ia had followed particles as they made their way from one end to the other in this dimension. He should be able to muster patience to see her again, even in this impatient body, on this hectic planet.

"Then I will grow." he stated and let some of the anxiety that boiled the liquid he was painted in subside. His head fell slightly to the side, the silver hair, mercury now in its soaked state, favored one collarbone. He was inspecting the priestess. She was crouched because of reverence, no doubt. He made note to take in her details.

He knew what kind of monkey kingdom he'd been sent to now. Human. The volatile. He'd been consulted on their dawn, but too many gods had wanted part in their hearts. Now they were on the verge of spreading their brand of consuming selfishness to the rest of cosmos. His legs bent until his face was at the level of hers, his head still slightly sideways. When he corrected the angle of his gaze, both his hands came out to touch her face. He wanted to caress the tenderness she exuded. His thumb brushed her lower lip first, and then the tips of the fingers she'd chosen for him spread over her cheeks. The touch was deep, examining the bone underneath.

"Where do you begin, priestess?" he asked. "What do you hope to create?" This language was insufficient and prideful to try and contain what he did with two words. And yet, it was enough for its purpose of communicating with humans. "In this moment," he started as his fingers rode the edge of her jaw and skated down the curves to her neck, thumbs stroking the columns where all her blood was before his grip deftly fanned out and locked around her throat. It was firm in a tender way. His thumbs drew circles on her hollow pipe. "where does you intentions begin?" A strange way to ask what she wanted, with him, and with herself.

He wondered if she had known she would be on the floor with a sitting god examining the ways life existed inside her this morning. He wondered if she would be beautiful if he halted the parts of the air that wanted to swim in her blood. He knew of humans, but he hadn't lived them yet. Mother said they were passionate things. How could they possibly be that to him, if he'd known sin with Ia? His tongue came out to shave soup off his upper lip as he waited for her to speak.

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #3 on: April 02, 2016, 05:38:39 am »
Sylphie was a good Follower, her pride aside.  She had soaked up the stories when she was a child.  When she had proven to possess a bright mind to pair with her willing soul, her parents had taken her to the cult of Ryll and given her up to its service.  She had been trained as a priestess and dedicated under Eou’s name.  She excelled in her classes and followed the path of her creator God, in whatever crude capacity her human mind had allowed.  She and the oracle, dedicated to Ia, were the rising hope for the Followers of the Children of Ryll.

When the bright girl had harrowed the passage of higher education, she was given a place within PanTech.  The company, a paragon of medical technologists, thrust itself into her calculating hands.  A premiere researcher.  A modern day Creator.  That she had weaseled a safe harbor for Ryll’s cult in the very belly of that scientific beacon was a sweet irony.  Her every success had been, silently, in Eou’s praise.  But vanity had formed her into seeing a prophet, more often than a priestess, reflected back at her.  The human to carry on Eou’s art.

Faced now with a vessel of her own creation, cradling within it the life of her patron God, Sylphie recalled her oath of servitude.  He would grow, Eou had said, and in that reply had accepted the shell she had wrought for him.  The brilliance grown bold stung with a sudden recollection of humility.  When he touched her face, she dropped to her knees.  What he saw she could not fathom.  The divine, peering through human eyes.  If the rest of her body had submitted to respect this greater being, her stare had gotten lost in examining his body-cage.  Flesh and metal made poetry.

Sylphie blinked blue eyes, pale and prismatic from optical enhancement implants.  His expression was distinctly human, and even as she attempted to reconcile his touch she was applauding the connections of his muscles and the synthetic synapses she’d grown to make them move with his whims.  His cold was a sharp contrast to the heat that bubbled beneath her tawny skin.  The fingers moved, learning her face as if he owned it, and she trembled beneath the confidence of that touch.  It was the sort of confidence her own hands had known when she’d carved out the borrowed viscera that now inhabited the spaces within his alloy frame.  He was strong because she had built him to be.

His query returned her composure, and she stiffened and straightened.  “I was told that I was born to serve Heaven and dedicated in your name.” She said.  “My purpose has always been to protect those that would follow you and the Dark Lady Ia, and to carry on your worship in acts of creation.”  Sylphie raised a hand, hesitating briefly, before letting her own fingers rest over his.  “The Wandering Goddess called out to me and I answered Her.  Ia’s oracle read the signs in the stars.  I built the vehicle of your rebirth and Divine Ryll lead to it your soul.  I want to make my most beautiful creation.  That my Lord would inhabit it is the highest honor your servant could imagine.”

She let her hand drop.  His palm found her throat and she gasped.  Perhaps he was strong because he was a God and she was not.  “My intentions…” she breathed, and she wondered what sort of suffering was reserved to those who lied to their Gods.  “Are, perhaps, not so pure as they ought, from your priestess.” She managed a shaky smile with the admission.  “It can be addicting, making things greater than one’s self.”  Sylphie laughed softly.  An odd thing to say to the very embodiment of formation.  “And you are beautiful.”  With life inside of him, she could not have taken credit for all that elegance.  His spark was the divine and the dangerous.  He would be the artist and actor in her costume.

Sylphie would have been foolish to think she were in control, at that moment.  Had he been made of the same bone and muscle within her, he could have broken her at his leisure.  With the body she had made for him, he would have to make the conscious decision not to.  But that body was still hers to care for.  “May I show you what you are, now?  I should check that you are functioning properly, as well.  If you’ll allow it, my Lord.” She said slowly.   

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #4 on: April 02, 2016, 12:32:08 pm »
The blue eyes were a well-picked color for his priestess, Eou had thought. The sky watching over things at times they grow, or at least that was the scheme on this planet. Would the children that bowed more to Ia than himself have black rings around their black pupils, then? He wondered about her oracle. It would be against Ia's heart for her servants to remake her, but Eou had very little understanding in his for that train of though, of course. Perhaps he carried some animosity for this oracle, when his own subject had been so successful in threading together his existence.

The noises of metals reconfiguring around soft organs inside him quieted, as his adrenaline and accompanying hormones started to balance as she spoke. He tested the dexterity of her skin, tried to know the limits of the cartilage that held her throat up. He was beautiful, like she said, and she had a hand in that. She spoke of purity, hinted it could be obtained by an absence of the pride she felt, but things like pride did not weight down creation. He knew other gods that abhorred it. Other gods had killed him. "Vanity is not a crutch on creation." he said, to unshackle her pride if she wanted it to be free.

Her throat also became free, when she said she should see to his body. Eou looked at his hands again, as he stood up, naked but for the liquid nutrients that lent him a sheen from the lights in this space. There was a calm in the creature with the human and mineral shell, now that his priestess had given him hope to see Ia again. His rightmost touch slid down his chest, and lingered on his side before it fell down to his hipbone.

Before he could attend to the organ that helped in the crudest way a creature could reproduce, create, Eou became aware of the filter through which he saw this world. He blinked orange eyes, and they glowered. With lips that were as straight as catatonia, he perished some of the energy in his core through his lenses, burning away the lids and the surrounding skin. He breathed in fascination at the information that let him know he was in pain as the skin and lashes grew back.

"What a pretty shell. You make worthy work." he said, attention inward, at all the things he was allowed to feel. "Yes, then." he decided, excited. "Tend to this thing you've built." For some reason, he extended downward the underside of his wrists to her, hands with palms up and fingers hanging. "And later, I can meet the oracle of Ia."

He had quiet plans now. He knew how to usher things into existence, always at the beginning. He could make arrangements for the journey through to be bearable, as well, if he'd meet his sister at the end. Whatever Selphie wanted, he would do, if it was for the upkeep of this suit.

-

Madmar had come along with Selphie through her journey. It wasn't inconceivable that two students would become colleagues, and people had heard of two minds of similar quality converging on the same faith. For Madmar it hadn't been an ordeal of the mind, not with Sylphie. He'd known that for so long he'd forgotten it. So he nestled himself in to the boards of PanTech, dividing his efforts between the lab, where the board wanted him to spy, and the boardrooms, where the workers wanted him to speak for them. In the beginning he had thought it would help Sylphie become whatever she wanted within the company, but because of her prowess, he could only hope to make her trajectory smoother, and her secrecy safer. He'd not minded this role as long as his closes rival was a god he didn't truly believe in, despite what he claimed.

These times had been trying for him, though. Murals made flesh. Their church, those who were allowed to know, in an elated uproar. He'd found himself praying to other gods to make it so that none of them were real. Those particular gods did not answer. So here he was, left alone in the lab beyond the innermost one, where the pool of life was, wondering if the dark things he kept inside were for a long brewing love, or a sudden, stark hate. He wondered if he should also build a machine that could resurrect gods, and what it would take to raise the god of envy.

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #5 on: April 02, 2016, 11:18:27 pm »
Sylphie’s breath had grown ragged under the grip of his hand, and she let out a sigh with more relief than she’d realized she’d been holding in when he released her.  Vanity was not a sin in the church of Eou, then.  It might have been a comfort if she had spent time thinking on it.  Her masterpiece was in motion, though, and that was what mattered more than the blemishes on her soul.

She stood, as he investigated the planes of his newly sewn self.  Sylphie pushed her dark hair off her shoulders, black as midnight and cropped cleanly into an impeccably straight bob.  She straightened her blouse, white beneath a white lab coat.  Everything about her was tidy, as she preferred it.  Hands clasped her clipboard before her and she watched him eagerly.  Like a school girl waiting for her favorite teacher to commend her work.  And then he burned away the gossamer eyelids and the thick fringe of lashes she had grown for him.  Sylphie metamorphosed from child to mother in an instant.

“My Lord, please be cautious!” she blurted, clipboard clattering to the floor as she rush to capture his face between her palms.  The skin and lashes grew back in a seamless instant, but she did not release him, scrutinizing the flesh around his burning sockets for error.  “My Lord Eou, your body is neither God nor man.  I have been able to craft only an imitation of your greatness, so, please be cautious.”  She muttered, judging his expression for signs of discomfort.  “Naturally, I have run many simulations but I had no way of predicting how well this shell would contain divinity, really.” She explained.  She pursed her lips and stepped away from him to collect her clipboard from the floor.

When he complimented her work, the tension that had snapped itself into her shoulders subsided and she smiled at him.  Sylphie’s sincerity was most evident in her work.  “Thank you, my Lord.  I will do what I can.  Please, this way.” She gestured toward a long steel examination table, a thin membrane of something that shimmered laid down its length.  When he came into contact with the membrane, it flickered a soft shade of amber.  Letters and numbers appeared at the periphery, and Sylphie tapped at them with the finger of one skilled hand while the other kept hold of her clipboard.  Confirmation of his vitals flashed, the biologic and synthetic in turn.  He had been constructed with cooling systems and processors as much as he had been made of scavenged and grown pieces of humanity.

She scribbled notes on her clipboard and then set it down to the side.  “Please excuse the intrusion, my Lord.  Also, this may hurt a bit.” She said, tapping a bracelet on either of her wrists.  She didn’t know if that was a sensation Gods were accustomed to.  Thin barriers appeared around her hands, invisible save the suggestion of blue when the light hit them right.  Sylphie pressed gently on the vertex of his collarbones, where there was a small ring of silver, instead of flesh.  A nearly inaudible whirr sounded as his chest cavity split open for her.  Ribs blossomed apart at her touch, like unfurling spider legs.  She nodded to herself, pleased as she watched the rush of black fluid pulse through his manufactured heart and transparent arteries.  She did not see anything out of order.  A perfect machine, she hoped.

Sylphie grabbed her clipboard and made a few more notes, prodding here and there at junctions of the made and the borrowed.  When she was satisfied, she closed his ribs one by one and pressed the silver ring to close his gaping chest.  “Your body recognizes my hands.  Nobody else can open you up.” She said, and it was unclear whether the remark should have been comforting.  Sylphie ran her hands over his arms, tracing the musculature, and pressed her palms across his abdomen.  Her touch was remarkably impersonal, in the wake of the way she had trembled beneath his fingers.  She traced each part of him with a calculating hand, pressing and manipulating in confirmation of his completeness.  His biological components had not fully matured when she’d drowned him in her life pool.  He should not have woken until he was ready to be birthed, but in her humanity she was prepared to have made errors.

When she finished, she moved to stand over him so that she might look him in the eyes.  “I will take you to the oracle, soon.  You should rest here for now, though.  Your body is still, in essence, newborn.  As well… the oracle should be prepared.  They are distraught that Blessed Ia could not be resurrected as you have been.  I worry they might not survive the encounter with you, such are the feelings of guilt burdening them at the moment.”

She stepped away, traversing the room to a cabinet on the far side.  From inside, she removed garments that had been prepared for the Twin God.  A suit in charcoal grey, for the nonbelievers.  For receiving his Followers: a thin sheath of crimson silk to hang from his hips, and a garland of hazy yellow flowers with petals made of a fabric that looked like glass and threads of gold binding them together.  Sylphie brought them to him.  “These were made for you by your Followers.  This one was made in the likeness of old paintings.” She said, extending the silk toward him.  "I hope they are to my Lord's liking.  Others can be made, of course."   

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #6 on: April 03, 2016, 01:33:07 am »
He'd remembered a careful touch like the one Sylphie all but forced on him from when one of the First Weapons had cut him from his eye to the corner of his mouth. Ia had not liked destruction then. With some effort, he'd healed himself, but not before Ia had bathed her fingers in the resulting wound and asked him if he would be alright. Mother had punished the god with the spear, and he'd shared an intimacy with Ia that would eventually lead to the unforgivable states of their hearts.

Looking into blue eyes instead, his vision filtered through Sylphie's fingers, he'd been hit with a ruthless memory of attachment. It made for shadows underneath the orange eyes after the skin had healed. The sadness mended from his expression while she explained to him the limitations of the shell she'd made. He nodded once when she was done. He'd not hoped for a vessel that could be at any place in this universe at any whim. An intact body would do, especially after such a long death.

The god was compliant with the priestess. He laid down on the mineral slate so she could see about her creation. Eou gasped when his body opened, a strange comfort blossoming in his chest when she activated the ring. He thought it was odd that he would feel such familiarity toward her, and wondered if it was the programing of the hardware leaking through into the nerves of the bio matter. It was like being momentarily haunted by a forgotten addiction, a phantom crave being tended to.

His mouth opened with the phalanges of his ribs. A strange feeling, the edges of the hollow electrified, while the nothing between the upwards latches felt heavy, filled with anxiety. He knew it must be a consequence of being split for her to view, and could calm the sensation with detachment. It was easily set aside, when he trusted her.

And then again, something foreign to him, as blood or whatever she'd fueled him with, rushed to follow her fingers as they explored his arms, as though his being was trying to please her, make her stay. What she said next, about her exclusive access to him, explained some of it. He sat up, one hand crossing his torso to trace the path of her fingers on his other arm. There was still a hunger there, the echo of a need, for her touch to return.

He laid the questions aside when she mentioned those who followed Ia. "Sooner, Sylphie. I understand missing Ia. I don't know the strength of human hearts, but I know I can stand and walk after loosing her. I'll want something from the oracle other than her visions." He was lost in those schemes while she gathered the robe for him.

Eou turned his head to listen and inspect the offered garb until he heard her speak of paintings. "I would very much like to see the paintings." His intention was transparent. He wanted to see his sister's face. In return, he took the silk and tied it around himself the only way the fabric suggested. His arm came out to snatch up the garland. He tried their quality with a tug, as though that would be important. His silver hair mingled with the flowers. "So this is the god they expect." he mumbled to himself, and tried to recall a time in his forever life that was mostly like this image. It had been in his reckless, but eventful youth. He could easily access that persona.

"Is there anything I can grant you, priestess? Nothing profound, perhaps, not in this state, but something at all?" he asked as he lifted the ornaments over his head and dropped them around his neck.

-

There was a vision out if the oracle would pluck it.

It would tell the oracle, if she was receptive, that there was a small calamity coming to her. A river first, that meant the hand of change, something new, and then a black panther, that told of violence from deceit. It would not be a good thing, if she chose to take the meeting with the god that would request her audience. He intended to change her.

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #7 on: April 03, 2016, 02:35:48 am »
The oracle reclined in a cradle of pillows, a breathy sigh flushed from their slight frame.  The Silence was coming to a close, in one way or another.  First, their dear friend, the priestess Sylphie had come with whispers in her sleep and begged that her machinations find validity in divine right.  Ryll had thundered in the oracle’s ears with resounding approval.  Lonely mothers were not known for patience.  Now, strange visions came at all hours of the day.

In the old days, the oracles had always had their poisons to focus and clear the endless plague of visions.  Now, Sylphie brought injections of something mercurial to serve in the absence of traditional herbal brews.  “Oracle?” a soft voice and a knock at the door.

“Come in, I’m just resting.”  A shy girl, sixteen-years-old, ducked into the dimly lit room with a bowl of incense cradled in her palms.  “Thank you, Saoirse.  My nerves have been on edge all afternoon.  If I had to say, our Shining Lord Eou has woken.  All of Heaven has begun to shake.”  Their voice was weary.  The girl took the bowl to a small table and then went to the oracle’s side.

“May I help you, in any way?” she asked, reaching to touch the oracle’s hand.  The oracle turned their gazeless face toward the girl, a black ribbon tied to cover their empty sockets, and smiled gently.

“Don’t worry yourself too much, Saoirse.  If you could prepare one of my vials, though, I would trouble you to do it.  There is chaos in this mind and a fullness that needs to be given shape.”  They said.  Saoirse blushed, and wrung her hands together.  She had a deep fondness for the oracle, and it often perplexed her young heart.

“Yes, of course.” The girl bowed her head as she turned to go.

--

Sylphie hummed thoughtfully as the God slipped into the garments she’d given him.  “There are paintings in the sanctum, though many have been lost or destroyed.  Other churches have some, as well.  The likenesses of you and Blessed Ia are particularly few, as it goes.  Even the cult of Ryll suffered in your deaths.  The Wandering Goddess was largely blotted from artworks even before the Followers went underground.”  She studied his clothed form and found him equally terrifying and lovely.  She had built him a tall and lithe body, something more imposing than any born human.  There was a metallic quality to the skin she’d grown for him that seemed to glow with the starlight of his hair.  And those burning eyes.  They had not had color before his soul had nested in that beautiful carcass.  She wondered what his godliness had done to the stolen DNA and even the circuits she’d sewn.

“If my Lord would allow me to ask when I have questions, I think that would be gift enough.  I have never built a vessel for anything greater than my own kind and I wish to continue studying what you have become.”  She said.  Even now, she wondered if the body she had built was anything like his previous form.  She had modeled it, in part, from the same paintings she’d told him about.  But those, too, were simply the fantastic imaginings of mankind. 

She had been circling him, without much thought, studying the way the fabric draped across his legs and the garland kissed his chest.  He was fantastic, really.  She wondered if the Wandering Goddess had felt something of the same when she’d first formed her children.  Sylphie reached out to touch a fall of his silver hair.  “Whatever you are now, it is greater than anything I have ever built on my own.” She murmured.

“I will call on the oracle tonight, and see to bringing you to them tomorrow, if you can bear to wait that long, at least.”  She said after a prolonged silence.  “For the moment, as I said, please rest.”  She was firm in that.  Sylphie went to the wall and tapped a few things there on the screen, after which the examining table lowered into the floor and was replaced by a more comfortable looking place to recline.

She looked back at the God.  “May I do anything for you, now, though?  You have only to ask, my Lord.  I will have food brought to you, if you want it.  Your body does not require it, though.”  She frowned slightly.  “I can return, as well, after preparing the oracle.  If you wish.”  She was unsure if she ought to assume any particular connection between them.  As his priestess, she existed in his service.  As the designer of his resurrection, she had her own inclinations toward protecting him.  But, from this phoenix-fledgling God, she could not anticipate what his wants might be.  Ryll had urged the priestess to bring her children back to life.  Sylphie had not been given direction beyond that.

“I… am sorry I failed the Dark Lady Ia.”  She said, somewhat abruptly.  “For all of my pride in what you are, I should not forget my shortcomings.  The oracle was sure the visions revealed both of you emerging.  I made your blessed sister a body, like yours.  Her soul would not have it, though.  To usher in creation is against her very nature, though, is it not?”  Sylphie shifted her weight uncomfortably and bowed her head.  “She would not part from you, at least, and was not lost.  If that is any excuse for my incompetence.”     
« Last Edit: April 03, 2016, 02:50:39 am by VenomousEve »

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #8 on: April 03, 2016, 02:07:42 pm »
His mother and her tier of gods had the most power. It was not surprising that there were fewer images made in the likeness of her children. He nodded, silver ends swirling slowly to envelop more flowers when he dropped and raised his chin. "I will offer mother condolences when I see her next." Mother might feel sentimental about her place in this society of monkeys, if not for pride, then for affection of the ones that followed her. He did not know if her followers going into hiding was a bad thing. Rare things, dear things.

Her request was more than reasonable, and well within what he could give her. His longest finger brushed the silver circle, the pendant without a chain. It did not open for his touch. "Ask away then, when you want." he said, warm eyes shining at a thought, rather than the outlet on the wall they were fixed on. Every now and then her shape would cut his view, moving around him, and a bit of familiarity would spike to flush the pupils. "I think I will have questions for you, too." He'd not taken time to learn about the humans after he'd consulted in their initial existence. The amalgamation that made up the base of their race made for lives with interesting choices, but an inelegant life force in itself. Back then he'd been drunk on thoughts of secret places where he could invite Ia.

His posture didn't change when Sylphie basked in what she'd made. The god had no reason to try and please Sylphie. But the little things inside him, the fine machines and the artificial nano life, gathered toward her, like algae toward the surface when the sun came. He was laced enough into this body that he felt it too. He would remember the commands her fingers made to turn the metal sheet into something more accommodating. Perhaps he could control this magic as well, when she wasn't here.

"I'll rest." he agreed and ran his touch over the back of the seat that had appeared. He tried it, and looked around the room from this new viewpoint, once he'd sat down. Eou was a child in some regards, now. It would seem he was so engrossed in reading the details of this room that he did not hear her offer for food or later company, or did a god only speak when he was struck by the whim to?

His eyes returned to her quickly, so fast his hair whipped and some of it stuck to his lips, when she mentioned Ia. His hand went to his heart, searching for a sign that might let him validate the hope that Ia might be in there. "I forgive you." because she needed to hear it. He stood again, to come to his priestess, and catch her face in a soft way. She'd made his hands large, the belly of his finger fitted into the crevice of her temple. Like loyal things, his blood rushed to seek her out, warming his palm.

"Mother made me to create. You were given two hands and your searching mind. One god is enough for one day." he said. "Bring me something alive." Offering her a task, as though it was the greatest medicine for her to please him. "I'd like to learn about the branches of life here." An emptiness, though in a subtle, weak way, radiated out from his stomach. She'd said he didn't need sustenance, but that was for this body, he assumed, perhaps Eou the god needed something. "I'll sample something from this world and see what I can gather from it." His other hand, now charged with the notion of his old powers, went over her hip, and then slid to the front, her belly. It was warm through the blouse.

He counted her years, tried to, to see how long her creation was viable to last before it became subject to Ia's concept. "You're fertile." Her elegant apparatus waited innocently, pulsing with potential for more life just like her. A room that would nurture, and little specs ready to become little lives. He couldn't know if his senses told him, or if his knowledge did. Theirs, humans, was an intimate, close kind of reproduction and incubation. A finger touched the meeting point of her ribs, the tip of the triangle of her torso. "Bring me something fertile." Though barren things were created as well, they did not hold him as much as things that could make other things. Mother had been angry when he'd voiced that, in the past. He'd rather have something connected with life, a part of its chain of beads. All life he could study. It didn't need to be sentient. The anticipation of that he'd receive from Selphie would be enough to amuse him.

"And tell me, also," he said, taking his hands back and locking them behind himself. "What will they expect from me, the Followers?" He thought on it, eyes to the side before they returned to his priestess. "I could perform some tricks once I've learned this, your shell, but which road would they prefer I take?" It wasn't a dominant factor in his decision on a course of action, of course, but he'd take inspiration from anywhere. "The promise written that I will resurrect the old things, and that all things that have lived will live together forever, or that I make everything into one thing, that grows until the universe is full, content?"

There was a demi god, a beloved daughter of the time god, that had made it her job to chronicle the paths and possible paths of all the gods. Some of her writing had spread throughout the many planets, and become prophecy. Sometimes that was helpful, and sometimes the minds of life forms that saw the writings could not possibly hope to interpret them in a correct way. "Or which one do you prefer?"

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #9 on: April 03, 2016, 09:30:24 pm »
Sylphie tugged at her sleeve.  Forgiveness was some kind of peace, but it didn’t change the imbalance that was bringing back one of the Twin Gods without the other.  She wasn’t sure what it meant, in the end.  Sylphie hoped Ia would wake.  She had said it as if it were a sure thing, when Eou had called for his sister.  In theory, Ia existed in that body as much as her brother, but Sylphie knew that her science had ended the moment their souls had stepped in.  For that matter, her science had never really dictated the movement of spirits.  She hadn’t realized he’d come to her until his hand cradled her face.  This time, it was gentle more than curious.

Her oceans sought his suns, lips parting in surprise.  “My Lord?” she asked.  Had she sounded so sad as to move a God to comfort her?  Sylphie thought that would have been a vain notion, but Eou had excused her pride.  Of course, Eou’s death had been for his indulgence in sins that made Heaven envious.  Maybe vanity, then, was still a sin.  Perhaps it was just another one close to his heart.  Sylphie had been dedicated to this sort of Divine.  She was wont to share in his vices. 

He asked for something alive.  “Of course, my Lord,” she mumbled, color rising in the soft bronze of her cheeks as his other hand traced her hip.  Her eyes grew wide at his assessment.  “Fertile?  What?  Oh, yes, I… I suppose that is accurate.” She stuttered.  He could not have known, really, the social mores of humankind.  But Sylphie could not have removed herself from the abrupt intimacy of that sort of observation.  He asked for something fertile.  “…Of course, my Lord.” She said, recovering herself.

She prepared to go, but paused again when he asked about the Followers.  Sylphie couldn’t help but laugh a little.  She was haughty.  “The Followers will see one of their Gods in flesh.  You could do whatever pleased you and it will be more than they would know to expect.  You will be the most magnificent sight they’ve ever witnessed.” The woman grinned.  “You will be perfection, to them, simply by existing.”

Sylphie rubbed the line of her jaw, where his fingers had traversed, and sighed.  “The hope, though, is that you will end the Silence.  The Followers were driven into the shadows, persecuted by the apostles of humanism and the sterile safety of science.  The people, at large, have forgotten Heaven in the Silence.  Humans, myself included, are prone to self-importance.” She said, a bit more solemn.  “It was easy to forget that our technology was only possible within the creation given to us by the Gods.  Your Followers will hope the churches will be restored to greatness.  That you will be a king.”

--

Saoirse brought the oracle the small syringe, filled with a precise measure of silver fluid.  The oracle nodded their thanks, curling long artistic fingers around the barrel and guiding it to their arm with a deft movement.  Saoirse found herself holding her breath as the oracle pressed the plunger and emptied the starlight into their veins.  Sometimes, the visions were violent when they became clear.  Watching the oracle in pain hurt the young girl’s heart.

The oracle was calm, though, when they pulled the needle free and handed back the empty syringe.  “Please, go and ask that I be left in silence.  Something is coming.  I need peace.”   



Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #10 on: April 04, 2016, 08:25:51 pm »
He supposed he should have known that he'd become a symbol of the power he used to wield. His flesh was not made of the foundation of this world anymore, but rather of the world itself, like everything else. Like the heart is a symbol of love, though love existed before hearts did, and love can obliterate hearts and still remain. He liked Sylphie’s laughter as much as he had liked the spread of heat on her cheeks when he'd touched her, and the reverbarence in her body under his fingers. "I will exist for them." he granted, as though human kind was here with them to hear.

The other possible outcome, that he would raise his Followers up, validate their place of prayer if not the prayers themselves, was familiar to him. There were gods that fervently sought out subjects, that showed themselves often, and would even fight other gods for the worship of non-gods. He'd had thoughts of this, before his eyes had been opened to Ia's beauty. He looked around again, when she mentioned science, at the walls impreganted with it, and the vat he'd been birthed from. He understood the draw of its power. It was a god given thing, also, but one that was made so that humans could wield it. That god had suffered greatly for bringing and lacing them with technology.

"I will be a king, then." Not everyone would be like Sylphie. He was sure he could coax worship by adding another force alongside the science humans trusted so much. And if not coax, perhaps he could channel his old abilities into this vessel and show them. There was the possibility of giving them no other choice, as well. He didn’t like the commitment that came with the iron hand that held the scepter, but he could see himself be persuaded to pass the time like this until he could have Ia back.

The God Child Eou came to the wall beside the comfortable seat she’d summoned before. He touched it, drawn by the field he could detect through the fantastical enhancements Sylphie had added to the human components that were now his home. The computer recognized its own kind, and bypassed all the registry to ask what this laid-bare, new user wanted. As he asked the computer questions about Earth, Eou would seem lost to the priestess in the room.

-

Usually Madmar had all access to anything Sylphie did. In part it was so that he could protect her. Most of this godly business had been restricted to the man. He understood of course, but it hurt him like drops of water can hurt a boulder. He was the kind of person to stop his vehicle and pick up strangers, and be beaten up by weaker men if it shortened the conflict, but that kindness was steadily eroded by Sylphie’s attachment to this impossibly unlikely venture. Madmar didn’t like what he found when he reflected, so he avoided that activity.

So he waited outside, in the next room, neither oracle nor star-pupil scientist, correcting his suit and pulling his belt to make time pass, as Sylphie consulted with a creature that was partially celestial. When she came out he would try to catch a glimpse of the creature, because somewhere in his heart Madmar knew she’d been successful, and follow her while asking “What does it say?” How could he help but be slightly cold when referring to Eou? “What does it want from you, Sylphie?” And “Are you still sure this is a good idea?”

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #11 on: April 04, 2016, 10:04:02 pm »
Sylphie nodded.  “Of course.” She said.  He would be a king among the Followers whether it was his intention or not.  She watched him seek out the room computer and take to it like an extension of himself.  It was, to some extent.  His circuits would know that electricity as well as his veins knew his blood.  She had incubated him here.  Her God was quick to travel down the paths the room computer etched, linking him to the vast wealth of human knowledge.  A fine distraction, and he would need to learn this world intimately if he was now subject to living in it.

She slipped out of the room quietly.  His shifted attention was as good as a dismissal, so far as she could tell.  Sylphie made sure to lock both the door into Eou’s chamber and the door to the outer observation room, as she left it.  It was not to keep Eou in.  She would have been foolish to think she could, if he were inclined otherwise.  It was very much to keep the rest of PanTech out.

Madmar startled her, when she stepped out of the lab space.  It was well past working hours, now, and she had not expected to find anyone but security androids on her way out.  “Oh, Madmar.  You’re here late.” She said pleasantly.  He had been waiting for her, she realized quickly.  He asked of her Lord as if he were a new android.

“My Lord is doing better than I could have hoped.  He seems to fully recall himself and his past.  He remembers Blessed Ia as well.” She said, casting a glance across the room at a door marked 702.  Beyond it were rooms identical to Eou’s present domain.  A still pool and a bare form buried in the muck.  Midnight hair, silver-and-snow skin, empty eyes.  A shell rejected by its soul, suspended out of time.  “He hasn’t asked for much of me.  To know a few things and to bring him back things from this world to try.”  Sylphie smiled, a bit ruefully.  “It was the Wandering Goddess that wanted from me.  Shining Eou didn’t ask to be resurrected.  Now that he is here, I wish he would ask more of me.”

Was it a good idea, to have tethered a soul of Heaven to this frail Earth?  Madmar asked strange questions.  “It’s as good of an idea as it ever was.  Regardless, you don’t deny your Gods.  I am at least that humble.  He is my greatest accomplishment, either way.  Madmar, perhaps you will get the chance to see him soon.  He is breathtaking.” She sighed, palm to her chest.  There was that swell of pleasure in her, again, that she was sure only the Goddess Ryll had known before her.

“I need to go.  My Lord wants to see the oracle and I should arrange that quickly, I think.  I don’t suspect he’ll be overly patient.”  She said, moving toward the elevators.  “Did you need something from me? I’m sorry to rush off like this.” Sylphie said over her shoulder.  She liked Madmar.  He had always looked out for her, supporting her successes in whatever ways he could.  She wasn’t blind to that, and she did appreciate it.  Sylphie had been guarded, though, when it came to Eou.  He was her God and she hadn’t been willing to accept any interference, regardless of intention.  Madmar’s tone had made her feel justified in that decision, but she hadn’t considered the possibility of jealousy.

--

The oracle fell into the visions like they had been dropped into a deep ocean.  They plummeted quickly, and then it was cold and the world took shape and slowed.  Flickers of the past danced around them, from the dawn of time onward.  The future wove its way into the dance, cast in shades of grey and shifting so quickly the oracle could not register the sights.  In their ears, a million voices murmured.  Then, a shrill cry, like a banshee.  The oracle heard a rush of water and turned, just as a massive river flow roared toward them and swallowed them up in chilly darkness.  The oracle swum upward, breaking the surface.  There was green and gold all around, flaring and wrapping around the dancing shades of time until the verdant life was all-consuming.  The flows of the dark river rippled lazily, and the oracle could barely see the far shore.  They swam toward the near bank, collapsing onto the jade and amber softness hugging the wavelets.  The oracle panted, catching their breath, and rolled onto their back.  The voices had grown quiet.

After a time, resting in the peaceful suspension of the vision, the oracle felt a new presence.  They say bolt upright, shuddering at the weight of this new company.  It was vicious and dark and seductive, slinking around the oracle’s quaking soul.  There was a snarl, and from the black water of the river emerged a panther with shadow-shining fur.  It lunged toward the oracle and they cried out, thrashing out of the vision just as the panther’s yawning maw closed around their throat.

The oracle felt the world compress and shrink back into the physical of their room.  The pillows were comforting, and so was the scent of Saoirse’s incense.  The oracle let out a shuddering sigh, nestling deeper into their pillows and wiping cold sweat from their brow.

--

Somewhere in the data stream at Eou’s fingertips, caught in the wealth of knowledge that was Earth and humanity, there was a soft and familiar hum.  An old song, sweet and eerie, near as old as sound itself.  Breath on the back of the bright God’s neck, warm and gentle.

“Brother?” she filled his head for a brief instant, no real sound, just her presence.  Then, she was gone.     

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #12 on: April 05, 2016, 07:36:26 pm »
Madmar had been referred to as handsome on many occasions. There was a purpose in his eyes on any given day, and he kept healthy, to compliment his expensive suits. Today it was as gray jacket and a black shirt. His brown hair was rich, neat for the board, and those green eyes still had the dark outer ring of youth. That purpose always turned to something more attentive when he was with Sylphie, so perhaps he could not use that to draw her in. She was the reason he might be attractive to other people. This was of course lost to the man when he walked with his longtime friend. She remarked on his late stay.

“Of course I stayed late. I was concerned.” He thought on his next words. “Who knows how the vessel could have behaved.”  He saw  the dedication in her gaze when she visibly regretted that she hadn’t been able to do more for her god. It took a lot from Madmar not to shake his head. He hadn’t been a believer, or rather, he hadn’t concerned himself with faith until now. It was easy to believe in the face of evidence, but rather, he was not religious in that he loved Eou or The Wandering Goddess. Not when Sylphie loved them so much. Perhaps religion had just been a means to an end, a way to feel included. He couldn’t linger long on that flaw of his when he had more pressing distresses.

The gesture for her own heart, when she spoke of her creation, and the thing that inhabited it, suddenly made Madmar ugly on the inside. He indulged in this trait. He took care to keep his expression calm. But the effort left him grappling for other things to do, to somehow keep her attention, subconsciously plotting to derail her from this path. Green eyes widened when she said that she should go. He followed her. “I—“ he started, pretending to be preoccupied with raising the frequency of his steps for a moment. “I want to help. This is a big thing, the largest thing.” A horrid plan blossomed in his aching head. “The old attempts. The incomplete bodies. I’ve found a way to dispose of them. The cleaning crew have been insistent on the wing where we keep them. I gave you the lone clearance. Perhaps you can give it back to me, now that you’ve made Eou and Ia vessels? We shouldn’t let others get wind of this too soon.” Something in his posture became softer, while his core tensed. He was new to deceit. It hadn’t been an issue coming to this point in his career. “Perhaps I can take care of the matter while you arrange for Eou—for The Shining Eou to meet the oracle?”

He’d never been comfortable around the ones with sight. They represented a deep submersion into their religion that he now knew he hadn’t shared in, but he’d always knew they possessed something. Perhaps he’d known that they’d see it in him, somehow, that lack of pious. Now, when the  magic and wonder of the world seemed on haywire, inflamed, he’d rather not face something that well connected to it. “It might be a matter of haste, after all.” His tongue tasted like charcoal, leaning on their trust like this.

-

Eou had been in the middle of looking up the flowers of Earth. Where the gods came from, their plains, flowers had been used as decoration, as well. He was the god of fertility on occasion, though not the one of harvest fortune. As the stream of endless species and colors played for him to record into his new mind, there was a familiar disturbance. The body, locked in the room now that Sylphie had gone, jerked one shoulder as the consciousness inside the computer dove deeper into the wealth of knowledge. He thought that hope might be playing tricks with him.

“Ia, beloved?” he said back. She didn’t reply. The god of extinguishing was gone from existence again. Distress steadily filled him, and pushed the computer out of his eyes. He stood stoic for a moment, in the onslaught of what this new body felt. What naked, raw emotions humans had. Petty, selfish. Surely he could see past them. When his new, beautiful legs failed behind the wrap, he followed in descent. The silver god sat on his heels, looking at the million memories he’d made with Ia, as tears boiled to vapor off his orange eyes.

As he sat, he nurtured a volatile impulse for comfort, and pulled off a flower from the row that hung from his neck. The glass-cloth moved on his palm, sprouting moist roots to roll around his hand, squeezing intimately as they made their way down his forearm. He was still at a distance from himself, floating in sorrow, as the thing that should not be real, became petals and pistons, and its searching roots laid in the valley of crimson covering his bent legs. Eventually it reached the floor, and snaked toward the tub. The flowerhead was tight, shape of a yellow drop. When his thumb discovered the new object he turned his chin down, the salty smoke ceasing it rise from his eyes.

When the flower felt his gaze, it spun open, inhaling the light that came. It’s stem elevated the petals toward the source of life. Eou gasped to see it reach for him, the surprise perishing more energy through his god irises. The surge became too much for the plant, its life improvised by his need for comfort, and it started to darken to a sickly brown until it had wilted, its roots dried out on their way toward the tub that had brought the god back. He laid his other hand around the crumbling bundle and lifted it the last inches to his face. In dead, as death’s resemblance, it offered him a much kinder imagery than when it had blossomed starkly. He smiled bitterly at her memento. “I missed you.”

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #13 on: April 06, 2016, 06:27:03 pm »
Sylphie hesitated at the elevator.  The door slid open with a soft beep and closed a moment later, her hand still hovering at the panel.  The wing Madmar was referring to was separated from the incubation chambers where Ia and Eou were presently housed by a physically locked door, for which Sylphie had the key.  However, the rooms were not separated by extra authorization panels, which meant they were effectively connected to the wing for somebody that was intent on accessing them.  Her brow furrowed, and then she flushed with embarrassment at her own paranoia.  Madmar had been nothing but generous and accommodating with her.  It was cruel of her to allow her protectiveness to belittle his repeated kindnesses.

“Oh, alright.  Thank you.” She said, pulling a small card-sized screen out of her lab coat pocket.  She swiped through a few menus to find her authorizations, and then paused.  “What are you intending to do?” Sylphie asked.  “We haven’t had a good solution for disposal, yet.  What is it you came up with, Clever Fox?”

She was honestly curious, then.  Parts disposal had been a touchy subject for some time, at PanTech.  It fell into a moral grey area that they had not been able to reconcile well.  Even androids with no biological components were given very dutiful decommissioning and disposed of in distant, plasma crematoriums.  Her manufactured cyborg bodies, though failed and uninhabited iterations, had been too human for established methods of disposal.  It would have been a PR nightmare.

--

The oracle heard the door open, surely a concerned Saoirse at the source of the unbidden entry.  The oracle was never terribly sure what to do with the young girl.  They were appreciative of her attentiveness, but often felt encouragement was misleading to her.  They were certainly aware of the girl’s sweetened feelings toward them.  “Saoirse, please call priestess Sylphie.  I need her to come here at her earliest convenience.”

--

In Eou’s chamber, the silky presence had evaporated like smoke carried off on a breeze.   There was nothing of Ia left but a nostalgic echo and the lingering warmth on his skin. 

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #14 on: April 06, 2016, 09:57:39 pm »
His guilt dressed him in cold when she stopped at the door, and let it close again. He read his own deceit on her shoulder blades. His irrational, grateful jealousy had been given free reign, it had been scalding in an indulgent way. All of that gluttonous bravado had shifted to cautiousness bordering on horror. He was reassured when she produced her palm-card and started fast work with her finger. There was no time to sigh in relief before she tested him, whether she meant to or not.

His mind became stagnant for the shortest time, and then he shocked it into speaking, without really knowing what to say. "It's not disposal, per say." he tried, and the idea sparked enough to inspire the rest of the lie. "Most of the organs are going to be delivered to a hospital by PanTech, but I mean to tamper with the refrigeration, so it'll look as though they've spoiled on the way." He might have looked like a bloated cat, twisting in sunlight when he spoke the last syllable. He was better at lying than he thought. "All that needs to be done is flush them of the fluid you concocted, and replace them with our own preservatives. If we start the soaking early, I think we can get passable levels by tomorrow."

He realized then that he might sound all too pleased with something so inherently dark. He couldn't bare that she'd see him in that light. "PanTech won't want this to become a scratch on their public record, and will of course make the donation with credits instead. I'll make sure it's a hospital that needs the contribution." It was strange, he realized, that he'd not thought of this earlier, when there was no more at stake than their secrecy. Now, when he was apparently a soldier for his own agenda, he did so well. It pointed him out to be selfish, and he didn't like that notion. He should have to process this by himself, later, and for now tried to keep the mask he wore. "I have appearances soon, though. So if you don't mind." He gestured to the card she held for her to finish the transfer.

-

When some of the sadness vacated his mind, the computer returned to offer him information. Eou haphazardly looked through the myriad of things that eventually would become the mosaic of the human reign on this planet. He had a fondness for the science that discovered things, rather than make them. Nature was its own force, and he was connected to it, although this ecosystem wasn't entirely familiar to him, especially not since it had been altered by the presence of people.

With his free hand he tugged the glove of decay off, treating it gentle, it's yellowed slither and the brown crown now a reminder of Ia. She wasn't the force that lingered on rotten things, but she was the initiator. With some sentiment he carried the flower and its tentacles to the vat, and dropped it in the liquid that had brought him back. He wondered, as the plant corpse decided whether to float or sink, if he would be with Ia, in some way, if he allowed himself to sink back into extinction. If she wouldn't be there, another realm removed, then at least they'd be connected by their state, which would be death. He'd be virtually surrounded by her.

"What will become of this Earth, or the world itself, Ia beloved, if there is only creation?" he wasn't so sentimental about The All at this point, but it made him curious about his prophecies. Indeed, if he kept making things, and their extinguishing did not come, he could fill the cosmos until it burst, leaking out into another plain. He laughed. It was a heavy cackle.

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #15 on: April 07, 2016, 06:33:05 am »
Sylphie chewed on her lip as he explained his plan, and she was trusting enough to overlook the little shifts in his demeanor.  She considered Madmar a dear friend, and was disinclined to think too deeply on any odd behavior.  Perhaps it was just to make up for her paranoia, lately.  “I suppose that would work, if the cleaning crews are getting that insistent.  I wouldn’t want to make a habit of it, though.” She said.  Sylphie felt her work was a synchronization of art and science, but she sympathized with those that were unsettled by her sculptures of muscle and metal.  She knew there was no life, perhaps more poignantly now, in the lovely vessels she made without a soul to occupy them.  Thus, disposing of her prototypes wasn’t disrespect to humanity.  It was simply purging those tools which were not found useful.  However, she could understand how it might make stomachs turn.  With as quickly as humankind had abandoned its “archaic” faiths, it still clung to rudimentary and imitative concepts of morality.

“People don’t like it when eternal youth shows its ugly side,” she said.  “And if they have to see it, they want to feel like it isn’t their fault.  So, we need to be respectful.  But, we’ve discussed this.” She returned her attention to her ID screen and added to Madmar the necessary authorizations for the construction wing. 

Eou’s and Ia’s were not the first bodies she’d resurrected, by any means.  They were simply the greatest.  The terminally ill had flocked to PanTech, in the recent years, hoping to make it onto Dr. Sylphie Winters’ list of patients.  She didn’t cure them, though.  She uploaded them and gave them back their lives in robotic packages that wore the faces of their most lovely selves.  Her success rate was comfortingly high.  Still, there had been early failures.  Most recently, she’d added to those numbers with several unsatisfactory iterations of parts which were meant for her Gods.  At least those were incomplete.  She’d not wanted to risk destroying bodies of the Twin Gods in any capacity, iterative or otherwise.  That wasn’t superstition.  That was the understanding that the presence of the Wandering Goddess was persistent in that undertaking.  Sylphie had not wanted to risk the wrath of a divine mother.

“Anyway, do what you think is best, of course.  But let’s try and find a more reliable method for the future.  Unfortunately, I don’t believe this will be a one-time procedure.  There are years’ worth of unsuccessful transfers in there.  Among other things.” She cautioned.  “I’ve given you access.” She said.  “Let me know how it goes.  Thank you, Madmar.  I can always count on you.” She smiled and called for the elevator again.  It opened immediately, waiting patiently there on that floor.  “I’ll be going, then.”

As she took the elevator down toward the basement levels, where the passage to the sanctum was tucked, she debated what she might bring back to satisfy Eou’s requests.  Something living and fertile.  Also something to eat.  She had a fairly voracious pitcher plant back at home, which she thought the God might like.  Plant life that was beautiful and deadly in its miniature world.  It was certainly both living and fertile.  She could likely cook something for him, while she went back to pick up the little potted plant.  That would do.  First, though, it was time to speak with the oracle.

--

Long ago, shortly after Heaven had held council regarding the creation of man, Ia had woken from a five year long dream.  In her early existence, she had been prone to sleeping away decades when it pleased her.  This particular time, she woke with a panicked start and had been greatly relieved to find the concerned face of her darling brother staring back at her.

“Eou, I dreamt that I was the darkness of the womb and that I was growing full with all sorts of life.  You had formed every bit of it and folded it into me to rest and grow.  The life kept growing and expanding until I couldn’t contain it.  I wanted to destroy the peace and the stillness that was my darkness.  I was ready to thrust away the seeds you had planted, back into your hands for their violent birth.  But I couldn’t.  I kept trying, but I couldn’t tear apart.  Eventually, all of the life swallowed me whole and I disappeared.  I couldn’t find myself anymore.  I couldn’t find you.” She had blurted it all in a tumble of frantic explanation and wiping away big, crystal tears.

Humanity had never interpreted the Twins with any real precision, though those who chose to dedicate themselves to the Children of Ryll and the oracles of their cult had unraveled some small understanding.  In that Eou was a Creator but was not the singular Creator of the universe and had, in fact, been created in it by the hands of his own mother, Ia was a Destroyer but was not death or the final destruction of all things.  They existed in the spaces.  Ia was a destroyer of paths as much as she was the patron of crossroads.  She was the peace and darkness to be shattered at birth and that same stillness forming the cracks in life and called for Death.  She was the first birth pain and the last breath.  Always, hand in hand with her brother.

They were balance.

It was inevitable that they had turned in on themselves and found each other.  It was in the wake of that frightening dream, cradled in Eou’s kind attempts to comfort her, that she had reached out for him as woman rather than a sister.  Her lips had been soft and cold, chilled to the point that she burned.  “Never lose me, Eou.  I am afraid I would not know how to come back.  You must help me come back together for every time I help you fall apart.”


In the recesses of Eou’s new circuitry, tucked in the fibers of his muscles, and wound around his metal bones Ia’s darkness slipped thick and languid.  She could feel.  Small sparks in her nothingness penetrating the empty.  It wasn’t enough to shatter.  Not yet.  But soon.   

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #16 on: April 07, 2016, 06:38:41 pm »
Madmar Olis listened to her intently, hugging his fingers around his thumb, hiding that hand behind his back. She wasn’t gullible, he knew, so it was trust that he heard in her voice, trying to soothe her protesting intellect. Some of the steps in this journey they’d taken toward her building the bodies had been precarious, but he supposed he’d believed that it’d amount to good, useable bio technology even if she’d not be able to raise deities. This action, though, wasn’t just hiding from the non-believers. He was effectively deceiving her. He was paving this path of lies alone. It hurt him to think it had come to this, and he blamed her for it, in part. He couldn’t argue for why it was her fault, but he hadn’t been inclined to this kind cunning before he became smitten with her, or rather, before his dream of reciprocation was threatened. There was a sadness when she cemented his engagement to this when she finally gave him the clearance.

“They will want the beauty of unending youth once you’ve perfected the procedure.” He said with a warm smile. It was a meager offering, trying to mend the wrong he had already committed toward her. What could be more true, though? People would step over each other in the stampede toward treatment. “You’ll be a god in your own right.” Was that blasphemy? Eternal life to only Homosapien Erectus would either honor the twin gods or upset them greatly.

Madmar monitored his own health with a minor adjustment to his palm-card. It wasn’t required, but he found it helped him fit his own well-being into his tightly written schedule. A lot of PanTech people did the same. As he stood there, accomplished and regretful in receiving her technological blessing, he caught her blue eyes as she turned around in the large box that would take her to any floor she wanted. I can always count on you. His card gave a small, shrill signal and his soft smile strained at that squeeze of his heart. Usually the application would send a signal to medical personnel at such a dip in his chemicals, but he recovered quick enough that it only became a note on his registry. He waved at her. “I’m fine. My card’s been acting up. I’ll see you.” He managed to fit in before the elevator took her on her way.

-

It was a vivid memory, from when his heart had still been wet with mother’s blood. That blood had roiled then, when Ia opened her eyes after her slumber. The arguments of why making men with their limbs assembled in a scheme inspired by the composition of the gods was beautiful and dangerous were still fresh on his tongue when she awoke. She would have her say in that spat, too.

He was a god, and so only other gods could truly exist and interact on his wavelength. Everything about Ia was his opposite, and yet mother had created them of the same stuff. That was why his sister’s touch was so meaningful. It was his paradox, and his completion. Nothing truly reaches creations like destruction. Perhaps mother had known, perhaps it was mother’s intention.

He’d sought out the kiss from her mouth, and it electrified him all the way to the back of his head, introducing a brisk caress in a crackling line inward from his own lips and all the way to the hairs on his neck. He’d not kissed her like that before. “I will pull you together, or let myself drift into pieces. Whatever it takes. We’ll always be in tandem.”

He combed her midnight hair to cover her shoulder, and extended his touch over her body, resting lastly on her stomach as he held his forehead to hers, so his bright eyes could warm her closer. “What a pretty dream, in part.” He said with a light voice. “That we should make something inside your lovely darkness.” His fingers counted the ways her abdomen was cold and he pulled her deeper into him with his other arm. When they’d turned from infants to something larger, more powerful, other gods had advised them not to hold each other like this. But Eou had always felt that his need for her became more acute with his maturity into his abilities. “Should we see if we can change the ending?”


Out of respect for the priestess, and the hands that had made the glass-cloth flowers, he’d shed the shroud and garland. Eou was suspended in the thick liquid again, arms wherever they wanted to float, as he looked up into the ceiling. His senses were shallow in this body, but his memories were still sharp and vast. He saw his arguments with other gods, and his retreats back to Ia. She would always complete his points. The twin gods had been a force at the celestial councils. He had a memory of mother being proud.

And yet nothing he remembered was as searing as when he’d dared to try Ia’s dream, to see what it might mean, and what it would feel like taking some of his life, his very self, and placing it inside her. That time, when she was getting the lull of her slumber out of her eyes, he’d made the kiss deeper, and wrung her around him with a love that was old, even for the gods and their universe.

He imagined her with him now, as the computer tried to feed him images by projecting them on the ceiling. It must be some kind of madness that he felt her wrapped around the inner frame of this body. Still, it brought him a sense of company when there was no one else with him. That love, that light, had been the beginning of the first end to both of them, hadn’t it? His hand lifted, blades of gelatin wonder making a crescent web between the rising limb at the surface. Fingers spread at the colorful palate of human history, its flowers, its cruelty. “I killed us, didn’t I, beloved Ia, when I started to love you like your dream had said. I didn’t listen.” The tension that kept the fingers straight left them, letting them curls slowly, but not completely. “I didn’t know what other ways to love you.” A single tendril of steam left the burning dome of his right eye before the arm fell back and made a dull splash through the artificial, wondrous liquid.

-

Madmar’s brown hair wasn’t neat anymore. It was ruffled, crushed to the side. Somewhere along the way he’d lost his tie, the shirt unbuttoned twice. It had been a hassle getting the old parchments. He’d left a broken chest in an invaded shrine somewhere in the building. He knew Sylphie’s procedure, but he’d also read enough during quiet sermons to know some gods were considered dead, while others, much like the goddess herself, were active, and taking prayers. These gods would not be resurrected, their mother had not spoken for their return. The room was dark but for the lights in the pool. A body, without wires and pipes in it, was touching the bottom with its feet as the head broke the surface. It was the only body that had started breathing after a quick touch of many volts. He knew this kind of work was unholy, deceiving a friend and playing so unceremoniously with her unliving creations.

He spoke the incantations. The language was one of the few that survived its own death, the verbal tradition following a line of keepers to today, where recordings helped preserve them for the future. His pronunciation was especially accurate, his teachers had said. There was no spell for this god. He had no followers. He was present in most of the mythos that they learned as kids, and a prominent figure in most popular tales he’d liked as a child. But throughout history there had been very few casts or groups that would benefit from this god’s services. If he was a weapon, he was a Morning Star without a handle. Somehow this god resonated with Madmar now.

Remembering these things, Madmar still used his improvised, almost conversational note, combined from fragments three scriptures that mentioned the god, calling for something that was likely not to come. Madmar’s voice was unsteady, but he sang in the rhythm he’d been taught. There was a somber, green glow in the room. There were no such lights installed. Madmar stuttered but continued, more conviction infusing his song, one arm out to offer the breathing corpse.

The lights detached from the nothing they were shining from, and created a depth for themselves, gray smoke swirling with them. The two elements broke and assembled in tune with Madmar’s secret words. Eventually a tall body stood on the surface of the pool. His skin was green, like a scarcely lit ocean, and its silver fog. His muscles were elongated, made for leaping. He looked a perfect face down on the offering by his feet. Black, long hair and black lips.

“F-for you, my lord.” Madmar said in the old language, hand still out, parchments slicing the air on their way down.

The god turned white eyes with black rims toward the summoner. The god nodded and leaned on his scythe, the blade connected to the staff by a welded-fast ring. “I know what you felt when you checked on your mother’s screaming when you were eight, Madmar Olis. Madmar Kenneth Olis. Do you think I wouldn’t know what you planned to give to me in exchange for an audience?” The voice was unmistakable, the tongue contemporary, but also diffuse in nature, like fog is always what it is, but a cloak for other things. It vibrated his ears, that lining of vibrato surrounding the words and staying when the words were gone. “It is poorly wrapped and ill-treated for a gift.”

“I am sorry, My lord.” Madmar said with real fear for his life. The god shrugged, it was a steady, precise gesture, and walked to the edge of the bath, looking down at the human that had called upon him.

“I suppose offering me nothing would have been worse. What do you know me as?” he asked. It seemed the god didn’t know all things, after all. Madmar was afraid of that insolent thought.

“Sasu, my lord.”

“Then call me that. It is short for a reason. Now, what would you prefer I do for…” Sasu cut of his sentence and lifted his chin, listening and sampling the air. It was such a pure show of startled awareness Madmar held his breath, as though he wasn’t already detected and engaged by the god. “Oh. This is why earth was strangely distant to me. The Wandering Goddess has laid a charm on this orb. And Eou is here.” Onyx teeth showed when Sasu grinned and jumped down on the floor. He was inhumanly tall. “Your request has something to do with this, I assume?” he asked, scythe on the floor as he wrapped fingers around it, leaning onto the horrifying weapon, ready to listen, or at least to imitate that sentiment.

“His priestess. Could you make it so that” Even Madmar’s now poisoned ego couldn’t ask without hesitation. Would he really pit a god against another? “she doesn’t worship Eou anymore?”

-

There would be a new sensation ready for The Oracle when they decided to pluck it. This vision would be more intrusive, blaring Sasu's presence at her. It wasn't always that the good god of friction crammed himself into the mortal plain. There would be ramifications in the threads that made The Oracle's visions.

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #17 on: April 07, 2016, 10:16:31 pm »
Sylphie was ushered in to see the oracle almost immediately upon entering the sanctum.  She was expected, it seemed.  At the door to the oracle’s chamber, Saoirse explained that the oracle had just asked for her and was recovering from an exceptionally strong vision.  The priestess nodded and the gesture was nearly lost in the depth of her hood, her lab coat exchanged for a long white linen robe trimmed in black velvet. “Thank you, for letting me know.” Sylphie said.

Saoirse smiled politely and held the door open for the woman.  If the girl was honest, she wasn’t overly fond of Sylphie.  The oracle was polite, but otherwise largely indifferent to the Followers that traversed the sanctum.  Only Sylphie seemed to move them.  But, the two had been with one another nearly since birth.  A gifted mind in the service of Shining Eou and a dissector of dreams pledged to Blessed Ia.  They had been, in some ways, the earthly shadows of their Lords’ duality.  In the same way the Twin Gods could never hold anyone the way they held on to each other, the oracle and the priestess had secrets that would never pass further than between each other’s lips.

There had never been romance between the two, and it might have been forbidden had it formed.  Saoirse was sure it was on account of the oracle’s measured nature, though.  She could not imagine anyone could resist the magnetism of their steadfast oracle, independently.  Saoirse certainly couldn’t.  Neither could her brother, who had abandoned the church when the oracle had gently rejected him.  “You’re a child, and you are confused.” The oracle had said kindly.  “I care for you deeply, of course, as I care for all of the Followers. But, I promise you, you don’t want what you think you want, right now. You will understand, someday.”

Saoirse’s brother’s heart had been broken, and his faith along with it, somewhere along the line.  Saoirse hadn’t spoken to him in two years.  She had also done her best to smother her own feelings.  For now, she wished only for the oracle to acknowledge her as a woman grown.

“Sylphie.” The oracle sat up when the priestess entered.  Sylphie was quick to the oracle’s side.

“Rest, Angel.” Sylphie urged.  The oracle, so far as anyone left in the church knew, had no name.  They had been left at the doors of the old sanctum when they had been too young to speak.  The child had been wearing a small purse with a letter inside.  The child had the Sight and could listen to the workings of Heaven.  The child’s mother had been a quiet follower of Ryll.  The child’s father, it seemed, was no believer.  Sylphie was dedicated some short years later and took to calling the oracle ‘Angel’ at that time. “Because her hair is white like an angel,” Sylphie had explained to their caretakers.

When the two had grown older, Sylphie learned that the oracle was neither an angel nor a ‘her’ or ‘him.’  The oracle was simply the oracle.  She had troubled herself over understanding it.  A priestess could live a life outside of her religious duties.  Eventually she accepted that an oracle could not.  If the oracle was anything, they were the Sight with a mouth.  Everything else was peripheral and amounted to shallow interpretations of self.

“Don’t worry, Sylphie, I’m fine.  But listen, this is important.  Something is coming.  Not from Heaven, but of it.  You cannot rest in the newness of having brought forth Lord Eou—I am sure he has been woken successfully, I can feel him.  Remember that he is a God, Sylphie.  Above all things, remember he is not one of us.  For that he has our worship but also, priestess, remember to fear.” The oracle began to tremble.

Sylphie wrapped her arms around the slight body, her fair skin playing artistic games against the rich bronze darkness of the oracle’s own.  It had been a long time since she’d felt the oracle needed comfort.  Last time, the oracle had asked Sylphie to spoon out their eyes so they could focus.  The visions would never stop, but worldly distractions could be removed.  Something needed to be done to clear the confusion.  Sylphie had done the procedure, herself, with exceptional care and considerably more elegant tools than a spoon.

“My Lord has asked to see you, Angel.” Sylphie said, when the oracle finally stopped shuddering.  The oracle sighed. Sylphie was surprised. She had expected the oracle to be eager, truthfully. “I am sorry I could not bring you our Blessed Ia.”

The oracle shook their head. “That’s not it. I don’t know, Sylphie. There is deception on the horizon and I am sure Shining Eou will be the center of it, in some way.  Heaven has made that much clear.” They paused and reached to touch Sylphie’s face. “I would not dream of denying our beautiful Lord an audience, of course. Please show him to me as soon as he wishes.” The oracle shrugged. “I worry for you, mostly. Perhaps for myself, as well. I see us both destroyed, in the end. But, maybe that is just a consequence of our humanity. Heaven is rarely clear enough for our limited minds.”

Then, the oracle collapsed fully into Sylphie's arms.  "Angel?  Angel!" Sylphie gasped, as the oracle began to convulse. These were not shivers, wracking the oracle's body. The episode could not have lasted longer than a minute, but the oracle was limp and panting by their end.

"Priestess, something terrible has happened. Some betrayal, surely. I don't know. Lord Sasu has descended onto our mortal plane. I-I don't know why. His presence is strong, though. He has purpose. Lord Eou without Lady Ia is already an unknown imbalance on our world. Sasu will be a force I cannot wrap my mind around, unchecked by their harmony." The oracle gripped Sylphie's arms hard as they spoke. When they had finished, their head lolled back as they dropped into the cool silence of unconsciousness, exhausted.

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #18 on: April 10, 2016, 04:37:41 pm »
"Oh you scoundrel." Sasu said with some mirth in his voice. It seemed all human emotions were pretend with this god. The presence of this being had Madmar's joints in an uproar, his knuckles quaking as the large, green deity walked over to him, to inspect him. What is the appropriate thing to feel when the harbinger and guardian of friction measures you person? Madmar could only stand there as the white eyes scrutinized his body and soul.

Sasu was a busy entity, his mind was split into many parts, all of them working independently. But he had allowed his self to come to this summoning. Even something like him was allowed pleasure in the whirlwind of eternal duty. He took his time savoring the hormones that came off this skin-monkey. There was a lot to work with here. "And who do you prefer Sylphie Winters worship, Kenneth, Ken?" Sasu laughed when Madmar's eyes grew. Greed, a very heavy desire.

"I grew up with her." Madmar said, which was true in a sense, depending on where he decided childhood ended. "She was the brightest girl in class, and the only one with a pure ambition. No. it was passion." he continued, adamant on convincing this god that while his intentions were dark, it was all for a good purpose. What could be more pure than love? Madmar would not have wanted to hear Sasu's answer. "I think her faith has corrupted her. Isn't that bound to happen, when the god you love suddenly has flesh? It's confusing to the heart."

Sesu laughed and finally took a step back from the man who had indeed come undone from love. The god hammered the end of the staff of his scythe into the floor, and left it there. "The heart is always confused. It has to hold so many things, Ken." he explained. "But you want Winters's heart to hold one thing first and foremost." The god reached into Madmar's chest then, and Madmar jerked. The fingers of the larger creature passed though the jacket and the shirt, and the waiting cage of bone without breaking it. "It's all a metaphor, of course, but it helps me work." he pulled out a white string, disappearing, thin. Sasu waved the end at the owner. "Call it software." he suggested before tying the string to the ring on the standing scythe. The thread glimmered before it faded from view.

"W-hat are you going to do, My l..."

"Well, this string is already attached to the back of Sylphie's heart. It is what makes you love her and why she doesn't think of you at all." Sometimes Friction can be malicious. Sasu pulled the scythe out of the floor and spun the blade around the axis of the staff. Madmar gasped of fear that the string would be cut, but it was simply not there, anymore. "You want your string to be joined with the front of her heart. That's the result you're looking for. And you would also like for your string to replace the one from creative little Eou."

Madmar nodded. He'd not gone into this desiring her love, only that she didn't love Eou so much, but this offer made him dizzy with want. "Yes, my lord, I mean Sesu. Please. What will you need from me?"

But the god was gone.

-

His presence would become reality again, in the chambers of The Oracle. He would have to take special measures to cloak himself from Angel. He might have tried it, if being seen by only one individual in the room wasn't so deliciously entertaining. Would she even wake up from his visit here, in her home? He stood on the floor, towering over the priestess, scythe in hand, as he scooped up a nest of threads from Sylphie's heart, casually turning his head this way and that as he counted and separated the threads with his thumb. He would appear clear as day to someone like an Angel of sight, great form taking the room as though he was indeed part of their species.

"Oh, this one is particularly healthy!" he said, the affectionate fiber binding the hearts of the priestess and the Oracle together resting on his nail. He smiled at the physically blind follower of Ia. "Do you suppose I'll pull it, or maybe all of them, if you alert her, and watch her heart eat itself?" He put the nest back tangled, and let the threads slowly correct themselves, and walked to The Oracle, leaving his scythe standing on the mat. His face was over theirs, where they lay. "Will you have dreamed this, or are you awake, Oracle?"

-

Eou had slipped into a shallow sleep where he floated. It was a meager truce between his sorrow and his fatigue. Somewhere in his mind, the computer still fed him, while his surface dreams were large and commanding. He dreamed of their sin, again and again, and of being afraid for her because of their love. He reminisced over the beginning, when love was invigorating, and the end, when it was prohibited. He called for mother in every change of scene.

His artificial bones pulsed, giving the dreams some softness, the messages and light not too stark for his human mind as it was pelted with godly sensations.

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #19 on: April 11, 2016, 02:55:52 am »
The oracle recognized the odd haze that was the middle plane of existence where ghosts and Gods liked to walk. It was close enough to touch the human world, but not confined by it. The Sight was fickle, shifting in dreams more often than not. There were times, though, when the oracles could see the weaving of time and existence for what it was with all the planes of life breathing and flowing through one another. The oracle had been taught about these sorts of trances, when they were learning the old texts. This was only the second time in their life they had ever experienced it, though. The first was when Ryll had confirmed Sylphie’s dream. It had been a considerably less jarring experience.

The oracle watched in horror as Sasu reached into Sylphie’s chest and plucked the tangle there like violin strings. The god was not inherently evil, by any reckoning, but was a special sort of chaos that rarely boded well for humanity. A sinister kind of meddling. “Please, my Lord Sasu, the priestess is in Heaven’s service. Why do you wish to interfere?” the oracle rose up in answer to the God, a phantasmal shadow of their physical self on this plane with the God. The oracle stood in their own body, their face drawn near the jade God and burning white in their spectral sockets. “As you know it, my Lord, I am neither sleeping nor awake.”

The oracle was exhausted and afraid, the pressure of the God’s creeping miasma weighing heavy on their soul. In spite of it, they retained an exceptional measure when they spoke. It helped, of course, that they were no stranger to spiritual visits. The oracle was as much a conduit as they were human and, as such, suffered a different kind of humility. A life of ultimate sacrifice, but less subservience to the Heaven for which they were a voice. “My duty is, first, to Blessed Ia. Then, to the rest of Heaven. Then, to the Followers of the Children of Ryll. You, my Lord, are one of Heaven.” The oracle kneeled, there over their own body, beneath Sasu’s gaze. Like it or not, it was the truth. “How may I serve you, my Lord? And may I implore you on behalf of this dutiful priestess? She has done nothing to deserve your… attention.”

--

Sylphie was listening for the oracle’s pulse and feeling for their breath. Satisfied that Angel was sleeping and not in any immediate danger despite the collapse, she stood. The oracle’s words were troubling and she felt she should go back to her Lord as soon as possible. It was ridiculous notion, to think she had any way of keeping a God safe from another of his kind. Still, she felt her stomach turn to think the scheming Lord of Friction might try to capitalize on the disorientation of a world the blossomed with Eou and no Ia. That the oracle had mentioned betrayal and that that betrayal might be more relevant to her own life than her pledged God did not occur to her. Or, if it did, it was not as concerning as the wellbeing of her Shining Eou.

“Saoirse?” she called. Sylphie expected the girl was just beyond the door. It was a duty of the young acolytes to look after the oracle’s needs, but Saoirse had been needlessly diligent in the recent years. Sylphie had noticed and felt badly for the girl. It was not her place to dissuade the wants of any heart, so she had not interfered, but she often wondered if they were taking advantage of Saoirse’s innocent passions. Ultimately, knowing Angel was in extraordinarily caring hands had overridden any sort of misgiving the priestess had considered. She had come to expect Saoirse’s diligent care for her oldest friend.

Saoirse responded immediately, and went pale at the sight of the unconscious oracle. “Is the oracle unwell?” she demanded. Sylphie waved off the question.

“The oracle has fainted from exhaustion. Please have someone stay by their side until they wake. Also, please call for food and water to be kept ready. I will bring some medication down from PanTech when I check in next. Unfortunately, I must go now. It's important that I return to my lab immediately.”

Sylphie had made it back up the incubation chamber floor of PanTech by the time she recalled that she was supposed to bring back items for Eou’s exploration and hesitated at the laboratory door. However, Sasu’s sudden arrival to their world seemed an urgent enough report that she hoped Eou might forgive her. She went in to find her Lord.

“My Lord Eou,” she called out to him from the edge of the room, watching as swirls of his mercurial hair flowed up to the surface of the incubation pool. She wasn’t sure why he had returned to the dark soup, nor whether he could hear her from within it. “I am sorry for returning without what you asked for but the oracle has given me worrisome news.” 

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #20 on: April 11, 2016, 09:20:54 pm »
His black lips parted in excitement at the little flame that became of The Oracle. White eyes left trails in the nothing as his head dropped and raised when he took Them in. They were well in tune, this oracle of the Ryll faith. Perhaps Ia’s darkness was exceptionally prominent in her absence. “Oh, you are a well-shaped little fire, aren’t you?” He was about to run his fingers Through them when They asked of his purpose. The white fire bled out from the sockets. “Since you ask.” He started, voice stone. “I’ll tell you, hierarchy aside, as you feel my standing and your standing is equal to the point that you should question my motives.” His whims were everywhere. Perhaps not even the god himself knew if he was truly offended or not. “Right now your goddess is dead, in all her little ways, and the priestess’s god is fractured, held together by minerals you’ve mined and meat you’ve grown. I think it is high time I help write this story.”

He seethed for another moment, but without the words he invented to whatever part of Their power that could hear him, it wouldn’t be as threatening. Perhaps the god wasn’t wrathful, after all. The God of Friction had always been a busy god, he’d not had time to build his ego like the more leisurely deities. The fire, white, soaked into his face to reveal its usual features, with the pale contained within his black lashes again, when They asked of Their role in his scheme. By no means was The Oracle at level with any of those that could wander the planes with any kind of authority, but an Oracle was holier than physical  creatures, and it was generally frowned upon to hurt one with the sight. Most of all it was considered inelegant to involve yourself in a plot simply by removing their seer.

“You can’t implore. Not fully. But I might be swayed.” He said as turned his head away from them, watchful, alabaster flames penetrating this building to where Eou lay in the nurturing muck. He turned back to Them swiftly. “There is some madness, some sentimentality in little Eou.” He started. He’d liked the twins when they were alive. Why wouldn’t he? They had always been destined to cause great tumult. “He’ll want something of you. He might not ask.” A chuckle in that otherworldly throat. In his hands, two black stones. He held them out to the flickering wraith that They were here, in his presence. “I want you to decide whether to appease him or not.” By the shape of the midnight gems, it was quite clear what they were meant for, what they were tailored for. Things The Oracle had wanted to scoop out with a spoon. “It’ll give you a choice when he thinks you should have none.” Black teeth showed in a dramatic innocence. While the ocular gems were exactly that, a shield for minor power, certainly enough to ward off what craft Eou might still currently retain, they were also amplifiers of desires. Almost all servants of any god trusted in their clarity of mind. Friction came from blowing on the sparks of their other possible interests. It wasn’t impossible that They knew the material of the two orbs, and what they’d do, but that didn’t change the deal he was half-heartedly offering, or the fact that it was a good holding out his palm for her.

-

Eou turned in the vat, lightning connecting his pupils to his sclera through the orange of his eyes as the computer fought to remain in his forevision. Eou decided to take the audience of his priestess instead of learning the statistic of certain substances in certain countries. He was curious. Sylphie was not one to idly fret. At least that was not his impression of her. He moved to the edge and stood there. There was some distress on her face. He should remember what that looked like, on her. She would be able to see how the sheen of the layer of liquid he was wearing fast dissipated, his body drinking in the potent elixir. The torso above the surface and even the hair would be dry soon.

“Sylphie.” He allowed, the last of the sadness ebbing form his expression. He was becoming good at splintering himself. It was a skill he would need. If he opened himself up for the full torture of Ia’s absence, Sylphie could make an ocean of chemicals and an army of bodies and it would still not be enough to keep his heart beating. “What is it that might worry?”

Eou had his suspicions of Sesu. Every god would. The circumstances of his sister’s death and his own were clear, but he didn’t exclude Sasu from suspicion simply because it was unlikely that he’d been involved. Wandering Mother had strong blood, and she’d crafted a heart for him with it. It should not have turned on itself, the way it had in the twins. When Sylphie mentioned the God of Friction, there would be a wrinkle between his eyebrows and he would like to know more.

-

Madmar had left the room as it was. There was no reason for him to stress over the lie he’d told to Sylphie. The plan he’d spoken of was a viable one, but those wheels had yet to see their first turn. He would have to arrange for the transport. Soaking the bodies in preservatives would have to come later. Right now it was more important to return the parchments to the shrine he’d burglarized. They were potent, these spells. Or The Green God of Friction had simply been available. Madmar wondered what other things might be completely true in their scriptures. Would you be punished if you bled into the Crystal Water that was the center of any of their churches?

He wondered about his sins, and found his body of work pleasantly meager. Surely, that wasn’t why Sasu had come, but it couldn’t have hurt his chances, either. Madmar stuck his hand against his chest, inside his opened shirt. That string was tied to Sasu’s scythe. It was an unnerving feeling, but the tickle in the pit of his stomach that was mostly fear also felt like hope and anticipation. Would Sylphie’s eyes glitter the way they did when she spoke about him, the way he’d seen them glitter when she came out of the resurrection chamber? Surely it was worth it, to sick a god of his own on her god.

He didn't look into the mirror in the elevator when he stepped inside.

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #21 on: April 12, 2016, 06:31:27 pm »
“Lord Sasu has taken physical form. I don’t know how or why, but he is here.” She said. “The oracle felt him arrive.” Sylphie bowed her head. “I am sorry I didn’t bring what you asked for. I thought you should know about Lord Sasu immediately, though.” She said. In a sense, she had only failed to bring him food. She, herself, was both living and fertile as Eou had pointed out. Sylphie was not one to play at being sly, though. She had an honest sort of intelligence and, when she did lie, it was only to herself.

Sylphie glanced at the wall, where the computer still projected images in Eou’s range of view. A stream of education on her small planet in the cosmos. “I am concerned, since you are the only one who is awake…” she trailed off, unwilling to speak overly about Ia’s absence. The closeness of the twins had not escaped human myths. She did wonder how far their truth went, though. Siblings with a bond so close they could not live without one another, was the generally accepted canon. Quieter tales had been passed along, though, of the pair taking each other as lovers. Some said it had stirred their downfall. In the cult of Ryll and for the Followers of the Children of Ryll, these stories had been heavily interpreted as symbolic. Standing with the god directly before her, there in the flesh crafted by her own hands, Sylphie was left with a keen lack of symbolism. She knew less about the truth of her god than he did of her earth.

“The oracle is prepared to see you, whenever you wish. However, in my selfishness I must say it, the oracle is in a state of extreme exhaustion right now. Much has happened in the last days and I think the Sight has been weighing very heavily on them. They collapsed and are resting now. We could probably rouse them, if it’s your wish but...” again, Sylphie was hesitant to say more. It was presumptuous of her to assume her Lord would care about the fatigue of any one human Follower. “Although, with this matter of Lord Sasu, maybe it is best.” She considered.

Sylphie was the most attractive when she was unsure. She was beautiful in her confidence, but the pressed lips and searching eyes were so exotic on her features it was hard not to find it intimately charming. She was a woman of science and faith, but she did not have the keenness of the Sight. She could be a dutiful priestess only with direction. “I will do whatever you wish, of course.” She said.

--

The oracle flinched, despite having been prepared for Sasu’s irritability. They felt, in some sense, they were to treat the god like a wild animal. Understand its power, but show no weakness. The oracle would never be on equal footing with this force of nature but they could weather his storm. “You wish to have me make a decision?” the oracle frowned. In some way, this had been the whole of their life. Listening to the faint whispers of the gods and interpreting them for the Followers. Deciding always what was worth earthly attention. They were sure they had been wrong more than once. There was more sinister in this, though. They would have never considered choosing against a god’s inclinations if those wants were made clear.

“As you wish, Lord Sasu.” The oracle said, at last. It was a paradox, really. To comply with the gods was to follow Sasu’s desire. To follow Sasu’s desire was to choose whether or not to follow Eou’s want. The oracle studied the verdant form with a peculiar expression. This god had no church. Even in the days when faith was held openly, Sasu’s Followers had been few and furtive. His name was murmured in the wake of revolutions and in the weavings of anarchists.

“Some power enticed you here.” The oracle said, half to themself and half to the god. Heaven had not yet woken. A strong desire had tugged the magic threads teasing gods to earth. It was the only reasonable way Sasu would have come. Or he had come of his own accord, disinclined to follow the silence of his brethren. Given the god’s nature, the oracle would not have been surprised if it were the case. But the oracle felt distinctly this was not the case. They wished to hold the god in conversation, but were unsure how carefully to step. The oracle’s spirit coiled around their physical body, thoughtful. “Are you glad to be awake?”     

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #22 on: April 12, 2016, 09:35:04 pm »
That was indeed worrisome news. Ia's darkness was never wrong, but interpretations could vary of the light it let through. Sasu's presence troubled the lower tier god. Mother, Ahe, had kept them away from Sesu when he'd wanted to hold them. It was unlike The Wandering Goddess to dote, but that was what she'd done to her children that were impossible. Perhaps making them herself, with her own life force, she attached deeper than any other mother. And with the lips that would kiss his blooming, reflective hair, she'd also warned him not to listen to Sesu.

There is enough inherent friction between your sister's darkness, and you shine.

He'd not been wanting for other gods to play with, when he dragged Ia along, and Sesu had not actively sought them out more than social bonds required. It had never been a problem, and mother seemed content with that. That one warning had stayed with him. The feeling created itself, while he grew. He wanted it to be wisdom over paranoia. And now, after his heart had been parched and Ia's had cracked, somehow Sesu was on the scene. He would have to be ready for what the green god came with.

He found himself drawn from possible plans when his priestess continued speaking. Yes, Sylphie had mentioned the Oracle and their failing health before. Ia's shrouding veil could be intrusive, straining on any creature, and humans, though close in image to the gods, were nowhere near fit to chanel it. This Oracle would have to be extraordinary among people. With the endeavor he'd crafted, perhaps it was better they had all her strength.

The logic of Sylphie's words weren't the only thing that siphoned his attention toward her. Perhaps it was this body, and it's in-house chemicals. She was a lovely thing, when she tethered between decisions, and waiting for his. Predatory rather than affectionate, maybe, but he could sense gravitation. "Then let her rest. This shell you've made should last longer than she needs to recover."

In the bowl where he stood, the flower that had lived and died was gone. From glass threads it had been made, and somehow through the magic of his themed presence, it had dissolved into tendrils that had been absorbed by him the same way his skin drunk up the potent muck. Something came over him and he held out his hand for her. "Then I'll let you know what I wish for." he said at her last offer.

They were on the opposite sides of the thin, short wall that kept her recipe of primordial broth from flooding the floor. His long arm crossed over that barrier to demand her acceptance. "I've studied the flowers, the algae, the prancing deer. I've not studied you. Like I said, you're fertile." A simple outward flick with his forefinger was meant for her clothes, that they be as his were, away. "You've brought yourself to me, like I told you. Don't delay."

-

Sasu was fixed on her, the way a transcendent thing can be aimed at a shadow. She was safe from his destruction, that much courtesy, both to her and the code of his own kind, he had decided to extend. It made it all the more interesting to interact. She agreed, what else was there for her, but she did not reach out her astral hand and take the marbles he held out. Without the two gem eyes he was offering, she could not hope to resist even this stage of Eou's magic.

Black teeth parted between the already peeled, upturned lips. "Yes, some power did." he admitted. "Would you like a name?" he asked and then shook his head No. It would seriously damage Madmar's agenda. The grin became wider at the thought. "Madmar Kenneth Olis." he said. Just another catalyst. Informing Sylphie of the deceit would mean little if he tied the threads together, anyway, but it gave The Oracle a few more choices. The string They shared with the priestess was strong. Would the name of Sasu's summoner weigh on it?

They had a question for him. He thought it was quaint, and shrunk to Their size, rolling the present eyes in his palm as he shrugged casually, imitating gestures of humans. The black hair licked around his shoulders. "It is good to experience change." he said and looked around the room as though They didn't know what he was speaking of. "I don't take much pure leisure, even now I am doing my work. But you know how it is, godly things are simply gods doing things." He laughed to himself and then the fires sharpened in his eyes. "And you, Oracle of Ia? How do you enjoy your work?" he asked, his head tilting, endless power focusing on the projection of Them. "Or do you have dreams that aren't true yet? Dreams of your own? This life found you, but how do you find it?" His palm came out again, with the eyes that They'd yet to take. "Perhaps I can change the magic in them a little, now that your goddess is missing. Maybe without your gift you could be free." He thought about what might sweeten the offer. "Sylphie might need you in other ways." It had worked on Madmar, after all.

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #23 on: April 12, 2016, 11:05:47 pm »
The oracle’s spirit peered at Sesu and at the eyes he continued to offer. “Is it necessary to take them?” they asked, even as they reached on the god’s seeming insistence. “I’ve not had want of eyes.” The conversation had turned in curiously benign direction, though the oracle’s heart squeezed at the name they were given.

Dear Madmar. He was not a frequent visitor but the oracle knew the name. A close one of Sylphie’s. They tucked the knowledge away to ferment a bit. “Madmar Ollis is not an exceptionally faithful man.” The oracle said. But then, by that reckoning, there were times when the priestess herself had been more devout to her world of mathematics than scriptural texts. The oracle rolled the gem-like orbs in their astral palm. They burned a little.

“I don’t know if I enjoy my work, my Lord.” The oracle said with an unruffled honesty. “It is a life that has taken even a name from me. I don’t know anything outside of it.” They mused. Their thoughts were still with Madmar. The man was fond of Sylphie, they knew. It was the same kind of fondness Saoirse had for they, themself. That meant it was a fondness with no resolution. Was Sesu a response, then, to that unrequited longing? That was a terrible thought. That a man would consider reaching for godhood. Surely Madmar had better sense than to wish to usurp the Shining Eou’s throne. Even in a single heart.

The oracle shook their head. “I don’t think I dream, beyond the Sight. I can’t tell, always. There was no other oracle to teach me, when I was young.” They said. The oracle was shocked at Sesu’s suggestion, though they supposed they should not have been. Life without the Sight sounded terrifying, if the oracle was to be fully honest about it. To be plunged into a strange well of silence like that sounded like a peculiar sort of hell. Not that Ia’s service was any sort of heaven.

The oracle smiled, and it was a bit sad. There were things, then, that even the gods did not really know. The nature of the human heart was a winding sort of puzzle. “The priestess is dear to me, you’re not wrong.” The oracle said. It wasn’t an answer, really. But, the oracle didn’t know what else to say. There had been a time, when the oracle and Sylphie had been near Saoirse’s age, that Sylphie had told them that she loved them. The oracle had been distraught. Romantic love was not in their nature. Sylphie had assuaged the oracle’s fears. ‘Angel, I only mean that I care for you deeply. Don’t worry, I understand.’ Sylphie had said. It had been the closest to free the oracle had ever really felt. To be understood as a concept more than a person, for that was all the oracle really saw themselves as, brought them an unexplainable kind of peace. For that peace, the oracle loved Sylphie also, in their own way.

--

Sylphie wore shock about as frequently as she wore indecision. “My Lord?” she breathed, a strong flush rising in her cheeks. “I-I meant to bring you one of my carnivorous plants. I have a small pitcher plant I thought you might find curious.” She stuttered, even as she moved toward him in reluctant obedience. “I could go get it for you now, if you prefer.” Sylphie offered.

Sylphie had never been shy about nakedness, regarding her work with a calculating eye and cool professionalism. The human body was an artfully designed machine and neither its inner nor outer workings had ever moved her greatly. She was, perhaps, most proud of that body which stood before her. Still, that was the furthest extent to which she had considered it. To bare her own skin was an entire other matter, which sent a flurry of unbidden questions to mind.

She had never undressed for a man. “Of course, that is to say, it’s as you wish.” She muttered. She was bashful, under the cool white light of her own lab. Had she worn a less sincere expression, she might have seemed coy. The robe, which she had not taken the time to leave in the sanctum, fell into a neat pile around her ankles. They smartly tailored grey skirt. The trim white blouse. Simple, functional undergarments.

Sylphie fidgeted, unwilling to meet the gaze of her Lord, and pinched at the skin on her hip where she wore a small arc of freckles. “I, ah… I am twenty-six years old.” She started, as if the most reasonable course of action was to teach him about her as if she were a specimen. She stopped though, aware of the absurdity in that idea, and laughed weakly. “I am sorry, my Lord, I don’t know what you want.”

--

Ia stirred in her brother’s belly, vibrating along his bones. This woman wore expressions that burned the goddess. Such faces were only Ia’s to make for him. The parted lips and veiled glances. The softly trembling rise and fall of that woman’s breast, like some caged bird fluttered beneath. And yet, for that sharp chill of jealousy, Ia felt awake.

Familiar fingers raked along his spine, the faint sigh of a satisfied lover hanging in the air. Only for him. That woman didn’t deserve to hear. She had missed her brother. The lingering heat of her breath and her kiss at his jaw, fleeting. It might have been a memory. It was tiring, being awake.

Ia curled tighter in the nest that was his mechanical heart and tucked herself in the threads of his soul. She could only muster so much. And Eou, surely, would never forget her.

She had been eager to learn her brother as a man, surprisingly bold in the face of Heaven’s disapproval. But Ia was drawn to destruction, in one way or another. She had always relied on Eou to piece her back together. She had waited for him once, in the fullness of her goddess-self, unclothed and draped in his bed. “Xeros wants to take me as a bride, Eou.” She had said, with large sad eyes, when he had come. Death had been persistent in courting her, over the centuries. At that time, she had only recently blossomed under Eou’s touch and was a fresh attraction in the eyes of the Final One. She hadn’t asked him to comfort her, opening her arms as if to comfort him, instead.

He kisses had always been sweetest in the face of adversity.


Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #24 on: April 13, 2016, 09:06:01 pm »
Sasu was amused by the little flame. There was no need for him to push farther, when They finally took the enchanted eyes from his insistent palm. The magic was already learning Them, lurking up the wrist and examining Their essence. “He is and he isn’t.” The Green God said about Madmar. Olis believed in Sasu now, because he’d seen him. It was a matter of trusting in causality before leaning on faith. A dirty, theological trick. Believing and knowing, a matter of absence or inception of miracles, making the concept of faith inherently empty. The gods that did feed of faith from their followers were odd things, even to Sasu.

He continued to observe Them, as They developed on Their relationship to the faith. Their thoughts were doing something else as They explained that They were made of faith alone, so They, in some sense, either did not exist or consisted only of Their role as The Oracle. He’d encountered this structure before, both when it was a truth and when it was a self-lie. Perhaps They were thinking of Madmar. It would be a valid use of Their resources.

Ah. This Sylphie. She’d already driven Madmar to divine treason, and could be the key to unlocking the human within this oracle. “And that should be a clue to your first self, shouldn’t it?” he asked, eyes burning brighter but with a tender light. The craft in the gems They had taken licked at Their nerves to know Them better, and transferred the sensory knowledge to the maker of the spell. Slowly the spell was learning about the body of the oracle. “Dr. Winters is no less or no more worthy of your love than any other follower. Yet,” he flared his fingers to make half a setting sun. “There it is. If there was another you, a human self, were you then someone who could love Sylphie, or love something like Sylphie?”

He tasted his black lips as he mulled. He would seem rather human then, amusing himself while trying to amuse her, despite this grave scene. The concept of Friction might not be fickle at the base, but he was also a god, a famously fickle kind of being. Right now he was being friendly. He clucked those lips once when an idea stuck. “Would you like me to find this Other for you? The you without the sight?” He came to her body, the one of flesh, and bent down, the marbles already forming in her sleeping grasp. His eyes were clearly directed at her chest, where the threads that made up her inner would be. “It might be a very thin thing, but I’d be willing to apply the effort, as I’m curious.”

-

He had not been appalled by the mention of the carnivorous plant. What unfolded instead kept his curiosity better. A human there, without her garb. The body she’d crafted for him wanted to draw closer, and the body he remembered, the one with a blood heart, was also awake with shivers and fondness. He thought of Ia, heard her. That moment, when the blood heart had been heavy and Ia’s kisses had been delicious, came into this one, where his priestess stood. He let her make her peace with the situation, rambling for a short moment before quieting. He imagined it was daunting. Humans grew accustomed to physical things, like cotton from flowers shrouding their bodies. Wasn't he hungry for a physical thing, as well?

He took her wrist, The Shining God standing in the puddle of life she'd cooked, holding on to the seamstress of his stainless bones and reactive sinew. "I want you to come to this cradle of life with me, so I can study you. I want you to help me find my way back to creation." With the flower she'd offered to fetch, he would have just eaten it. There was power in ingesting objects, but he wouldn't dare to eat Sylphie Winters. The god hand pulled, assumptive, but not unforgiving, as though it was trying to bring her compliance, and not just her.

-

His chambers were better defined when she was there. The lights in the walls weren't dimmed, but the shadows that followed her sharpened the shapes of his trinkets, his glass cupolas and his cages. Life in many forms, living there for him to study. And on that day, she had laid in the middle of it all, roots and leaves and arms reaching for her: creating seeking out destruction. Bad news from pretty lips.

"You can't." he said, kneeling on the bed. "Xeros isn't good enough." He fell into her arms, and weighed her down with himself. The garland had landed on the floor, somewhere. But he couldn't very well protest to Death by saying a brother has claim before a suitor. "You won't go." he promised himself, but there was a singing question mark at the end of his strong words. He buried his face in her hair, and drew at the scent that chilled the inside of his cheeks. He placed a first, obsessive kiss on her collarbone before warm eyes lifted.

"Don't take his hand." he implored as he laced his over hers, squeezing hard enough to compress growing stars. "I'll think of a way." Eou drew away the sheet and threw it with offense to the side.

-

Eou felt the memory screaming in the hand that pulled at Sylphie, and a familiar, tight cold in his bones. It seemed that the more he entertained this, the more he could feel Ia.

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #25 on: April 14, 2016, 06:33:18 am »
Ia had sighed, pressing comfortably against his chest. She was always so cold. It made Eou’s heat painful, which she liked. “I would hate it, I think. Xeros would keep me away from you.” She feathered him with soft kisses. “But, that sort of hurt could be lovely, too.” She mused. Self-destructive Ia, delighting in falling apart so she could pleasure in letting her brother put her back together. She was cruel, that way.

She bent naturally to her brother’s insistence, digging her fingers against the back of his hand and savoring in the pressure of his body over her. They were a weather system when they met, a swirl of fire and winter. Ia arced toward him, lightning in the quiet spaces. “You always find a way to keep me,” she murmured against the lobe of his ear in agreement. “I’m not worried.” As if her sad expression had only been an excuse for his comfort. It was possible that was the case, but Ia’s moods were transient and Eou’s embrace was comfortable.

--

The priestess wavered where she stood, unwilling to go to her Lord. There was some kind of blasphemy in the panicked questions flitting through her mind. She had rushed here to tell Eou of Friction, but now she could hardly recall the other god’s name. Eou was too blinding. “I could still bring you my pitcher plant.” She offered. He beckoned her into the dark mire of birth with him, though, and she was obliged to obey. It was reluctant, though, her one hand moving here and there in some half-subtle attempt at failing modesty.

It was a peculiar moment to recognize the excellence in her own handiwork, but she could not help it as she stepped gingerly into the pool with him. Her own body seemed like a ridiculous imitation of the metal and blood god she’d crafted, ironic as it was. She was small, standing near him. Sylphie had built Ia’s body several centimeters shorter than Eou’s, but still with an imposing sort of height. She had made the goddess’s figure softly curving with an eye for the idealized femininity in adverts and the silky expressions Blessed Ia wore in all of the paintings. The priestess wished, now, she could have occupied that body in its flawlessness. Sylphie had not had the luxury of designing her own form.

--

The oracle shook their head. “I do love Sylphie. She is different to me than the other Followers, yes.” The oracle agreed. “But that is why, I think, I would rather not know if there is a me left on the other side of this Sight.” The oracle inclined their head. “I would not refuse you, of course. I am an oracle because Heaven let it be so. It is Heaven’s right to take that away.”

They glanced down at the eyes, which seethed in their palm like living creatures and crawled through their aura. A peculiar and not fully comfortable sensation. “My Lord, that girl there,” the oracle said as Saoirse settled in the corner to keep a watchful eye on their sleeping physical form. “She and her brother love me for whatever it is that I am, or could be, without this pretty curse.” The oracle gestured toward their white-burning spectral sockets. “It is easy to love something with potential. To be fixed, or broken, or changed.” The oracle grinned then. An unusual expression on the generally placid face.

“Sylphie is dear to me because she loves me as I am. I do not love possessively. I do not wish to be loved possessively. I wanted to, once, thinking I ought to learn to reciprocate the comfort she gave me.” The oracle shrugged. “But Sylphie loves me in the ways I can love her back. It brought me—brings me peace. She loves what I am now, even if I am not whole or if I am more than that.” The oracle frowned. “I would not be me as I am now, if you take my Sight. I don’t know what I would be, then. She might not be dear to me at all, if I were tied closer to earth. I think that frightens me.”

“So, my Lord, you may find the other part of me if you wish it. I don’t know that I want to know what you find, though.” The oracle said. It was the truest answer they had. There was nothing to stop Sasu from whatever whims he wished to follow, of course, but the oracle saw no reason to play at lies. He was a god, after all. Lies were generally useless. 

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #26 on: April 14, 2016, 07:55:45 pm »
Eou’s heart, beating close to Ia’s, grew with thorns and hard vines when she said she might enjoy the hurt of a distance between them. He knew what sensations she was thinking of, knew her to cherish the marks he left on her skin, but it was ultimately, intimately different if that pain was delivered by someone else. Especially Xeros, who took souls when she had applied her hand to them. While Death and Destruction were different gods, they worked together with living things. “Perhaps all the hurt you needs is here with me.” He gave, petitioning with an edge of force to his low whisper.

“He is only Death, after all.” He looked down at her prettiness. There was some vengeance in exotic eyes before his face descended, nose pushing at her ear to have her head to the side. He bit at the coldness, softly at first, and then with a pinch before he let go, the rush of her ice-water torrents daunting underneath her skin. His passion overswam like sunlight on morning lakes, sometimes, no real enjoyment of her pain there, usually. Today he thought briefly of punishing her, assured she’d find it acceptable with her inclinations, but then he nuzzled the mark until the redness subsided. “I’ll always keep you.” Determined, a huff to his last word as he pushed against her and slung her leg around his waist.

-

Sylphie did not have Ia’s subtle audacity. He would lose his priestess to Xeros in the end. It made her a morsel with a more acute sweetness. Snowflake on the tongue. He took the hand that touched her own body, and helped her, even lifted her over the edge. She was significantly smaller than he was, and the depth of the green-lit life contained by the glass and metal pool would travel further up her body than his. “You can get it later.” He said of the plant as he held her hand high, too high for the tip of her toes to compensate. When she’d topple, he’d pull her along, in a circle around himself, kneeling on the bottom to keep her afloat, her head always above. It might feel playful, and it was, but the god was also learning.

He put his hand on her hip, where the spread of freckles were, and turned her onto her back, holding that back on to his torso as he sat back against the edge. Hands on her waist, to keep the now swirling liquid from pulling her away. In this room, their universe of a steadily changing sun – images the computer provided proudly on the ceiling – and titanium floor, they might have looked like the first people, if people had been the first thing to spring out of the ocean. His face sought out her cheek as he held her, looking for something on her face, an indentation that he’d find comfort in every time he’d cozied up against Ia. Sylphie was not the same design. He settled with his cheek over her cheekbone.

His bones were comfortably heating. A hypothermia burn. Ia’s burn. It made him smile against the priestess. His hands wandered, a finger encircling her navel, other hand flat, tracing the shape of her belly, and pushing with a searching thumb at her ribs. “Will you also be a goddess of creation, one day?” he asked, all but petting the organic machine that would allow her to do such wonders herself, at least poetically. His longest finger, left hand, stiffened slightly, hair fine roots slowly growing out from between the tip and the nail to try her skin as well. “Are you allowed by your faith? Are you allowed by yourself?” his eyes, contrary to his attaching, gingerly moving cheek, were slightly distant before they blinked and were with her again. A small body drew itself out from underneath the nail, its freedom marked with a puff of blood that was swallowed by the surrounding liquid, an amber seed with thin tentacles, see through shell unveiling a small, eager heart and rootwork of veins as it moved down her stomach. “Because your god allows you.” He promised against the corner of her lip and raked firm fingers over her thighs to then cup her knees. He slowly applied pressure outward, separating her legs and at the same time pushing her back further up his torso, opening her up for the little life, made solely of him and what magic he had kept, as it climbed lower.

-

He was as still as a god could be, turning Their statements over in his head to see if they were of any use to him. He looked at the girl and nodded to the oracle, reaching out, flicking at the string that came from Saoirse. It would become visible to Them as it shook from his attention. He grinned when They did, as if to say ‘what a merry time we are having’. That amusement receded on the morning ocean face when They put that kind of love next to the one Sylphie had, compared them. He became curious, and reached out quickly to pick up the thread They were talking about. “Ah yes.” He said, holding his hands up and examining the bond. “You’re right. This thread has an equal distribution of weight. It is quite sturdy.”

He was becoming charmed by the musing Oracle, enough to consider Them something other than a piece that needed to be sharpened or dulled by another piece. “Very well. I’ll spare myself some effort and not go looking, then.” He decided as he looked the flame over. “But I can’t promise I’ll have this disposition forever.” He touched the wraith that They were, knowing full well it would become a challenge to stay here, with godly digits interrupting your astral form. “A lot of the times, gods are asked for mercy.” He said, waiting for Their being to shudder. “And while gods can make mercy, it is not an exclusively godly act.” He continued, flicking Saoirse’s string again. “You could consider being godly too, to this sprite. If you don’t feel love in your heart, you can still make her feel the love in her heart at a different temperature.” Cruelly, he wrapped his hand not inside The Oracle’s spirit around his fingers and tugged, not to break, but hurt. It would feel like the first tinges of heartbreak, to the girl. He let go. “Something to think of between doing our work, I suppose.”

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #27 on: April 16, 2016, 07:41:34 am »
The oracle was quiet as Sasu plucked at their heart strings. It was interesting, to feel them vibrate so. They wondered if it would have been painful if there had been other emotions tangled there. Surely, there was something of this life they were missing out on. The oracle could admit that much, and freely. But they had never felt it to be on account of their unconventional heart. In that much, they were content. More so because Sylphie had helped make it acceptable.

“You’re right, of course.” The oracle said. “I am not wise in that way. I was overly harsh with her brother. I have been content to leave her to her silence. It’s unfair, maybe.” Not that Friction was the sort of god the oracle felt they should be taking that kind of advice from. If there was a god that could be guaranteed to tuck alternative motives in their sleeves, it was undoubtedly the little-worshipped Sasu.

They gasped under the sudden grip of the green god. It was startling enough that the spirit slipped and dropped thickly back toward the oracle’s body. Unexpected pain was the sort of thing that woke humans up. The oracle did just so, with a sharp inhale as they sat abruptly upright. It made Saoirse jump from her place in the corner of the room.

The oracle heard the slithering echoes of Sasu’s voice in their head. Sightless in the physical, and tossed from the middle planes of existence, the oracle could not feel the nearness of the god. His presence loomed, still, but they could not place him with the sort of precision their sprite could. “Lord Sasu.” They mumbled. It was safest, the oracle thought, the closest they could stay to this unexpected deity. It would be most helpful to Sylphie and to Lord Eou if the oracle could hold Friction’s attention.

“Saoirse, I’d appreciate it if you gave me some privacy. Please tell the other acolytes that no one is to enter without inquiring first.” They said. It was a bit sharper than intended, perhaps a little bit cruel to the young girl that had so dutifully kept watch.

“Of course, Oracle.” Saoirse said. She was glad the oracle could not see the small hurt written on her face as she retreated from the room. “I’ll leave your meal outside the door. The priestess asked that it be ready for you as soon as you woke.”

--

Sylphie stumbled, tugged by Eou’s whims and tossed into his orbit. The tar-dark soup was an unsettling kind of neutral that left her feeling as if she were floating in nothingness. Pulled against his body, she was made acutely aware of his heat. In some foggy reach of her mind, she wondered if she should monitor his temperature. It had surely risen since her initial evaluation. His body was built to resist conditions exceptionally intense compared to the average human. Still, she had not considered some kind of godly fire.

It was hard to focus. At least, Sylphie wasn’t sure what she ought to be focusing on. Attempts to fold this contact of their bodies back in on itself like it was some medical examination were failing rapidly. She wasn’t coherently able to keep track of those thoughts. Rather, the most singular sensations were rushing over all the other thoughts like some torrential rain. Her eyes closed, breath catching beneath his fingertips.

“What?” she mumbled. “I don’t… think…” Sylphie hadn’t been asked that sort of question before. “As your priestess the Followers expect celibacy. A virgin priestess as your offering.” She said. She wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly. Not now. An offering could be a lot of things. She couldn’t recall that detail being clarified by the clergy, when she had reached her coming of age. “Am I allowed by myself?” she echoed. “My lord, I don’t have an answer for you.” She breathed. To ask her at such a moment.

She shuddered as his fingers found the soft of her thighs and thought to be resistant. Her body, of its own inclinations, it seemed, responded to his suggestions with a shameful eagerness. Sylphie blossomed for him. “My lord?” she whimpered, and she couldn’t have articulated what question it was she was asking.

--

Ia had found her prettiest hurts in her brother’s heart and rarely turned from a chance to draw them out. She was a sweet silky sort of powerful. Fluid beneath Eou’s hands. Ia was happiest when he was in the lead. Destruction to follow Creation and lead it back again. She hummed as he pressed into her. “I will always be yours to keep, Brother.” Ia had murmured, pulling against him as if she could bring him any closer to her. Always more. Until it ached. She turned her face so that she might capture his lips and explore his candy tongue. It was some poetic justice that barren Ryll had formed children drawn so close to one another. Perhaps it was that they had inherited the desperate and lonely parts of their mother’s heart. Ia arched toward him, hips seeking his heat.   

Verse

  • Posts: 1443
  • blue in nothing
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #28 on: April 16, 2016, 08:29:10 pm »
They humored him. There seemed to be some real regret when mentioning Saoirse's brother, and Saoirse herself. A quick eye on those strings to see their color. "So perhaps, if you should deceive them. Or just the girl to begin." He thought about the things in a person that would have to compromise in order to make a physical lie. Would The Oracle have the properties to perform the act? "It could be a thin veil. The girl already wants to believe there is something."

Amused, he watched through his separate plane as the newly woken Oracle excused the surprised, stung acolyte. If he saw through Their plan, he did not make any motion to give off such a conclusion. When the girl had gone he bled into steadiness, the fires softer when his solid form stood in the wake of the hurt. Little notes tingled his skin. Ah, this girl was passionate. Perhaps it was her quiet life that amplified the treasures she compressed in her chest and took out before she slept.

"I have plans for this theater." he said with a human volume. It didn't matter to Them if he was solid or not, but he'd rather speak like this when there was a hall between his lungs and his lips that could justify the sound. Not all his missions required a shape. There were things to appreciate like this. He graced the scythe that was set on the floor as he traveled toward Their bed. "They'll put Sylphie and her god through trials. Maybe they'll upturn Saoirse's little existence as well."

He knelt by the spent seer, and graced the back of the hand that was gifted the new eyes. They had made it safely to here, as well. "But perhaps I could be magnanimous if you could. I have no real reason, as I am who I am, like you are who you are, to spare the priestess and Eou, but if you could lead by example and provide Saoirse with some acknowledgement, however untrue, I could be swayed not to test the priestess and her worshiped." He raked the lower black lip with the upper black teeth as he thought on the idea. "And her brother. Somehow bring him back."

-

He listened to her unravel. He suppose it was flattering, that his priestess reacted like this in his embrace. He smelt her hair, inhaled her flourishing distress as he heard the hollow pursuit of pureness she described. He'd never asked for such things. There was life to spring from dirt, as well. Perhaps pureness could be connected to devotion. If there is only one thing, then that one thing is clean, after all. His fingers locked around her knees to ensure she couldn't close and turn away the little thing that quickly followed the the low of her stomach to the apex of her legs.

Out of kindness, as the little thing braided its thread legs together to take its place inside her, he dug nails into the caps of her knees, bringing some of that sting toward the outside of her legs to distract from the humming expansion between them. The finger that had birthed the pod still bled into the dark liquid. "And now you also harbor creation." he said as the pod made its home inside the untouched system he'd been admiring from outside her flesh.

The life examined its host, becoming both of her and of Eou as it tried to reconcile itself with both their urges, and both their goals. As it imitated her heat and multiplied it, to endear itself to her, it loved The Oracle, and Eou, and Ia. The life was rebellious, physically, but craved its hosts approval, reaching out from its perch to find nerves to play.

"It won't know what it is, Sylphie." he said as he moved his hand up her leg. He petted the skin above the growing galaxy. "it is part of my life." And it transferred information to him, things her cells knew, her soul memories, to explain to him what beings they were on this planet, about the ocean before them, and how destructive their love had been in the layers of their small time weave. "And it's yours." The circle, the lock she'd put on his body, glowered with the closeness of the life.

It wouldn't know about the implications of something born from virgin vessel, as it learned its mother, or the fires that were waiting to spread when The Children of Ryll learned of it's existence.

-

Eou had become addicted, of course, to the the mosaic of cracks that she tended to. It hurt him deeply, and left vigor in his heart in the aftermath. He forgot about Xeros as they shared the darkness and the illumination they were made of. He felt assured by what she said, and further steady when he felt her adoration. Life is a thing that needs to feed, and she knew when to fulfill his wishes, and when to deny him. He rebuild her, but she guided him.

It was a dangerous indulgence, so soon after she'd received the news of Xeros's. Eou couldn't have acted in any other way. Death was not usually in heaven, but his presence was felt. The chambers of creation weren't in anyway untouched by Death, but it was mostly when Eou allowed it. Surely the prolific god meant to see more of the bride he wanted, even if it meant leaving the nest of overgrown grass at the roots of The World Tree.

The Shining, and today, reckless Eou didn't mind the reaches of death as he rolled his sister on top of him, and brought her head down to kiss.

VenomousEve

  • Posts: 591
  • Crunch.
    • View Profile
Re: A rave of returning ravens
« Reply #29 on: April 17, 2016, 08:21:00 pm »
The oracle had never been asked to choose between Followers before. It was a paradigm they honestly never considered. The oracle had fancied themselves as a bridge between the gods and the Followers. Surely the only choice they had prepared to make was between these two, and the answer would have been clearly in Heaven’s favor. Now, Heaven asked her to choose between sheep of the flock and the oracle was sorely unprepared. The answer felt clear, first, with the dearness Sylphie held in their heart. But, then a thick kind of guilt swam through and clouded the answer. Saoirse was a good girl. She didn’t deserve to be toyed with.

“I am not sure how to be in any way authentic. It would be a poor emulation of emotions I don’t connect with.” The oracle said. “…But… if it would spare the priestess and Shining Eou, I can offer my best.” The oracle said. That was the right answer. Saoirse was a good girl, but the oracle belonged first to Ia and Eou. Their service was always the correct answer. “I have not seen Rhys in quite some time, though, and Saoirse doesn’t speak of him. I could not, in good faith, promise you the brother. As I have said, though, I will do my best.”

--

Sylphie let out a little sob, the foreign fullness blossoming with an alien heat. “Why?” she asked him. She was at once terrified and aware that she had been given some divine gift. It would not have been in Eou to understand the gravity of such an act to a single mortal woman. Eou, who could create at will and in whatever bounty he wished. Human creation was torn with effort and forged primordial, intense bonds.

She struggled away from him so that she might turn to look him in the eye. “I didn’t ask for this…” she told him, a complicated expression playing across her features. She wasn’t angry. She felt she’d been given some greater responsibility than her young heart had been prepared to take. “My Lord, you’ve not even met your Followers. There are so many others who would have been better suited to… to… this?” she didn’t know what to call the life inside of her any more than it would know what to call itself.

--

Ia stirred in Eou’s bones, the transfer of some of her brother’s self to another being that was not her was jarring enough to wake the slumbering goddess yet again. She peered through the window of Eou’s eyes and saw that new mother to her brother’s curiosity. A weak creature of blood and flesh with only borrowed divinity. Ia detested her. Humans were only beautiful in the twilight of their lives. It was when their souls became most pure, reflecting on the blip of eternity they’d carved for themselves.

“Are you so easily distracted, Dear Brother?” a silky whisper, accusing, in his ear. “You give her life, but what of your Ia?” Ia’s cold was sharp, when she wanted it to be. “If, instead, that priestess were to decay…” Ia sighed.

It was a pathetic body, but one her brother had bothered to touch. He could prepare it for her. In the rot she could blossom. Reclaim that little life he’d so casually given away.

It was an intense effort to bring forth her voice, and even the flaring spark of jealousy that had led her to the surface was not enough to keep her there for long. The cold receded, along with her touch. In its wake, a lonelier chill settled.