Goldeagle1221

What Are You Listening To?

Edguy.

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™!

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™!

Orb

Orb’s stomach rumbled and they lurched over, grasping it under their thick cloak. Their eyes flickered about -- Orvus had left Orb to themselves after a few hours, convinced Orb could handle whatever thing they wanted to do. They now found themselves under a particular tree that Orb had named ‘Tree number twenty-six’ for being the thirty sixth tree in the local vicinity. Orb tapped their mask, the pattern of count being the chronological order Orb had been introduced to said tree.

Orb’s stomach protested again and the cloaked figure twisted with hunger; luckily the mind accompanying the body Orb found themselves in was very well aware of hunger and how to solve it. It would seem that despite Orvus’ dismissal of all of Orbs old pre-programmed blueprints and protocols, the blueprint that Orvus had focused on in their creation came with some... well urges, or instincts -- which to Orb seemed very similar to the programed consciousness they used to have. Orb even got to keep a lot of interesting tools, like language and vast knowledge about their own body. The level of detail that Orb could recall made them wonder if perhaps they were a simulation of a real being somewhere, only now having been made a real clone -- or perhaps it really was just a really good blueprint.

Pinching the bottom of their mask Orb couldn’t help but wonder if the blueprints they had given to Orvus were this detailed or more so -- not that Orb would be able to remember. Their new mind had definitely not retained most of Orb’s past knowledge, which makes sense, Orb supposed, since that knowledge likely wasn’t a part of the blueprint Orvus had focused on. Their stomach twisted and Orb made a hidden face, their raspy voice pounding out in their runic language, “Fine, fine!”

Two hands pumped out of the cloak as Orb did a hopping sprint, remembering the fields of food that Orvus had mentioned during his little tour. The gentle night wind blew through the mossy cloak, but even then it clung close with many folds, keeping the true shape of Orb hidden. Orb pondered it for a moment, thinking about how they looked underneath their clothes and how different that was to their current hosts. A hand came up to pinch the mask and Orb shuddered -- then suddenly froze.

Coming to a skidding halt, two twinkling eyes appraised a big green bush filled with red spheres -- berries. Orb rubbed their gloved hands together, “Berries.” The runic word announced, “A source of food.” They continued, “For my body.” A hidden smile formed, “So it can continue to be alive.”

Looking over their shoulder, Orb made sure they were alone. Satisfied, they shifted their mask up on their face, just enough to reveal a gently angled chin that perhaps betrayed a heart shaped face (while still being able to see). The skin was tanned from exposure, or would have been - Orb supposed, if they weren’t a copy of a blueprint. Two lips curled on the face and with a single hand, Orb popped a berry into their mouth, the red sphere landing on an awaiting blue tongue which quickly retreated with its prize. A happy hum vibrated from Orb’s throat, content with the taste. Quickly now, both hands began to quickly pluck the berries, and in a fit of frustration at only having two plucked at a time, two other hands suddenly shot out from the cloak and began to aid in the foraging until the bush was meticulously picked clean. The lower hands retreated back into the cloak as Orb plopped onto the ground by their pile of fruits.

Orb happily danced their shoulders back and forth while they lazily reaped their reward. One after the other the berries disappeared until only the bare grass was left. Orb patted the ground, searching for any stragglers. The mask slid back over their face and they hissed in runic, “What!? Only thirty-nine berries?” They let out a ‘bah’ and pointed a finger at the bush, “Increase efficiency!”

The bush and Orb shared a silent moment, a gentle night wind blowing between them. The twinkling eyes behind the mask squinted and the bush waved in the breeze. The standoff didn’t last long, with Orb eventually crossing their arms under the cloak. The faceless mask turned up, almost smugly as Orb walked away, stomach not yet satisfied.

It didn’t take long before Orb found themselves in a rudimentary field of tiny sprouts. With twinkling eyes, the figure squatted down to examine the crops. Unsatisfied with their optical study, a gloved hand exited the cloak and ripped a spout from the ground. Orb brought the vegetable close to their mask and rasped loudly, “This plant is not ready for consumption -- I do not hunger for it.” They frowned and slipped the vegetable under their mask. There was a crunch and a loud spit, a glob of saliva and bits of vegetable falling from under the mask. The runic language came back with a disgusted tone, “Def-definitely not ready for consumption.”

Pinching their mask, Orb let their mind wander with ideas. Slowly they started to rub their hands together, the others likely hoard their ready to consume food, they thought, so they can consume it... whenever they are ready. Orb nodded their head, “Very clever.”

With a hopping run, Orb stifled a laugh at their own genius, running directly for Orvus’ house. It didn’t take very long before Orb found themselves before the porch of the cabin. Orb gave the front of the building an appraising look, eyes falling on the door. Twinkling eyes scanned it up and down before a realizing chuckle left the mask along with an announcing rasp, “Ah, a solid wall hinged to another solid wall but with movable parts. Brilliant!” Orb creeped close enough to poke and prod the hinges, “A toggle of wood pegged between round entryways. I will have to remember this.”

Content with their impromptu study, Orb slipped through the door... eager to get their hands on some more food...

Summary

Orb goes over their creation in their mind, then decides to go eat things -- and upon realizing the world around them is lacking in ready to eat foods, they decide to go take some from Orvus.

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™!

Orvus image

---

It had been several weeks since Ohannakeloi had left the Eye and during that time, much had transpired at the Eye. The Marble Star had been explored in its entirety and when the first rain came, its possibilities became unlocked for the Nebulites. Its grandeur and beauty would continue to be expanded upon as time went on, Orvus knew. Furthermore, land was being cleared, fields plowed with stone tools and seeds planted for the coming harvest. In the meantime, Arya had been showing the Nebulites how to hunt food and eliminate waste. They did not have large game on the home island or as the Nebulites were calling it, Nebulan. Thus trips to the other islands were being established and exploration hunting parties were going out at all times. He had also shown his people the Monument of the World Tree and Laurien had… Well she had been there several times.

But as night fell, Orvus found himself back at his home. His daughters sleeping and Rowan had her head leaning against his shoulder as they sat on the porch bench, watching the sun set. Sometimes he forgot he was a God, with a life the life that he lived now. His past self simply felt like a bad dream, yet one who would not slip away so easily.

"Laurien huh," Rowan started, pulling his attention from his thoughts to her. "She seems to be… busy huh?"

”She sure is. She seems happy though, and I haven’t seen her this happy for a long time.” Orvus mused back.

”What if she gets pregnante?” Rowan asked quietly.

Orvus whistled before saying, ”Well, that’s her decision. I’m sure she’ll make a fine mother.”

”Well, having a baby is a lot of work you know.” she yawned.

”Having two at the same time is double the work.” he agreed.

”Say, do you think, maybe we… could try for another?” she whispered under her breath.

Without missing a beat Orvus said, ”There would be no trying, dear, we would have another. Because of your gift.”

Rowan sighed, then sat up to look at Orvus. ”Always a way with words. Now,” she said getting up, ”Come on then, if you’re so sure.” she said with a sly smile, before disappearing inside. Orvus looked up at the moon with a smile, then got up and wandered inside.

---

Later, Orvus sat down at the table with a box. He still didn’t sleep, but stayed in bed most nights for Rowan. Tonight however, he had a strange feeling. He opened up the box to reveal the orb, which he placed there so the girls wouldn’t get ahold of it. He watched, holding his breath to see if it would come alive.

A rune flickered after a short while: ”Hello.”

”Hello orb. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it. I am sorry for putting you away like I did, but with children, one can never be too sure what they might get into. I had to make sure you were kept safe.” Orvus said softly.

There was a pause and then unseen light managed to bend inside the orbs translucent body, a wave of glittering runes appearing: ”Did you miss me?”

”Yes, I’ve missed our little discussions of questions.” Orvus said with a smile.

”Do you like K’nell’s gift?” The Runes shifted quickly, almost excitedly.

”Yes, more than you could ever know, little one. Without you, none of this would have been possible, and for that I thank you.” he said humbly.

”Will you put me back in the box?” The Orb suddenly asked.

”I…” Orvus began to say, confused. ”I can, but why?”

”Is there another option?” The question betrayed the Orb’s potential displeasure with the box.

”Ah I see. You are upset with me over the box. Well, I suppose I can leave you here upon the table, or I can build you a shrine outside. There are many more who you can ask questions too, that is, if they can understand you. Or, how about this, what do you want?” he said, spinning the question around.

The orb seemed to lose is light for a moment, a shimmering of runes appearing as light shattered across its surface: ”What is it like to be alive?”

Orvus leaned in closer to the orb and thought upon it’s question for a very long time. Then he said, ”Such a question is too hard to explain. What if I just show you instead?”

”Can you?” Another question appeared.

”Of course I can, but only if you want it.” he said placing his hands on the table.

There was a thoughtful pause, the orb pulsing: ”How could I not want to be alive?”

”Good enough.” Orvus said, gently taking the orb within his hand. He walked over to the front door and out it, down the porch steps at a quick pace. The world outside was a chorus of night and only a few Nebulites were stirring, chatting to each other or doing... other deeds. He then bent down and placed the orb in the grass at his feet, before standing and backing away. ”This should be interesting.” he mused, cracking his knuckles together.

With a wave of a hand, Orvus willed a soul into the orb, and with it; life. He shut his eyes and focused, for there was much to do. The orb had many different things inside of it, blueprints for life, and those had to be done away with for the orb to truly shine. It was easy enough to isolate the figure he had seen so long ago, and when he did, he imbued it with soul. He opened his eyes, and the orb lit up like a falling star as it grew in size.

It turned to a hot white as it began to pulse and morph wildly. The sound of glass wildly shattering sounded, the flashes lighting up the night around Orvus. Through the blasts of light, a crouching figure was slowly forming. As it became more than a shadow in the sea of light, it started to rise, almost shakily, to two feet. There was another crack of light as it finally stood completely upright. Slowly the light began to fade, leaving the figure alone and in full view.

Standing just under two meters was a heavily cloaked figure. Its shaggy moss covered cloak hid the details of the body underneath and its hood covered most of the head. What wasn’t hidden by the cloak was covered by a faceless mask, two sparkling eyes staring out from behind two tiny peep holes. A pair of gloved hands poked out of the cloak as the figure stared at itself in silence.

”The first step of life, is living. You can do that now. I have given you a body that can never die, but this also means you cannot have children. There is a price for everything. Now, tell me, how do you feel?” Orvus asked, scratching his beard.

A voice came from past the mask, it was strange -- as if somewhere between the voice of an adolescent boy and the raspy voice of a grown woman. It spoke in a funny swooping language that was both as pretty as it was staggered. Orvus figured wisely that it was simply the spoken word version of the runic language the orb used to use, and luckily, he could understand it just fine: “I feel funny -- oh!” There was a very excited laugh, “I didn’t ask you a question.”

”And you never have to again, not unless you want to.” Orvus said, crossing his arms with a smile on his face. ”Now, do you have a name, little one?”

“My name is Orb,” Orb answered with excitement, “Another statement!” There was a heavy breathing that snaked past the mask as the being shivered with delight, “I’m warm. I have a body and it is warm.”

”Yes, bodies tend to do that, Orb. A fitting name, if any. You have life now, what will you do with it?” Orvus asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“I can think,” Orb nearly ignored the question in their excitement, “I have thoughts, so many thoughts. I will think about it!”

”Well, that’s good enough for now. Come on, let’s get you a room for the night.” he said, waving Orb over.

“I want to stay outside and look at things,” Orb insisted, “I already have been in a box.”

”That’s fair. Well, you will find many things here, and many people. Come on, I’ll show you around.” Orvus said, walking past Orb.

The runic language pounded with one syllable, “Yes!” The cloaked figure had an almost hopping run as they energetically followed Orvus. And Orvus did just that.

---

Summary

Orvus talks with his wife briefly before making love. He then decides to chat with the orb, their conversation is brief and eventually leads to Orvus concluding that he will give the orb life (not unprovoked by the orb itself).

Orvus does this and the new being who names themselves ‘Orb’ is born from the orb (fitting) This being is a little shorter than two meters and is completely covered in a mossy cloak and faceless mask. They speak in a strange spoken version of the runic language and have a funny little voice somewhere between that of an adolescent boy and the raspy voice of a grown woman, making it very hard to place. Either way, Orb is very excited to be alive and refuses to go to bed despite the late hour, so a tour is alluded to.

Grisaille Genesis

Reporting another update of the Know All!

Gods, Men and Everything in Between

Okay, I will try to post IC tonight.

@The Nexerus

Yeah, okay, pal.

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™!

Rise of the Sleepers -- part 3

For safety, the trip through Limbo was short and done very much in the embrace of Xiaoli -- Hermes’ mortal mind barely keeping it all together. With a rush of light, the two suddenly landed on a big mossy patch. Hermes let out a hollow cough, her eyes adjusting to the new light around her.

Her heart quickened, she was in a forest -- just like last time -- except this one was different. Her rush of anxiety quickly turned to curiosity as she looked around: the trees were a lot bigger, a lot older and wider, with gnarled roots that threaded out of the thin mossy ground and branches that lumbered above, darkening the understories. Leathery shrubs and other hardy plants cut out territory among the roots and moss, above them tiny lightning bugs flickered with unusual brightness, giving off most of the grove’s ambient light, but what stood out the most was the wind.

A gentle breeze seemed to cut through the area without end. It was silky and slow, with a thick plant-like fragrance stuck to it and when Hermes closed her eyes and really tried to listen, she could make out gentle chimes -- almost reminiscent to the snapfruit chimes when a stiff wind blew by. Xiaoli followed the sound with watchful skepticism.

“... It might be a trap,” she whispered. “Anything that resembled the real world can be a lure hiding greater dangers…”

Hermes slapped her Narzhakian mace into her grip and held it close, “You’re probably right -- as always.” She smirked at her wife, but her eyes stayed serious, ever flickering while the cloudling in her hair crackled menacingly. Hermes pursed her lips.

“Which way do you think we should go?”

Xiaoli put her hands on her hips and hummed. “... I mean, straight forward is usually not the worst - then again, straight forward may as well be backwards in Limbo…” She snapped her fingers repeatedly as she weighed the multitude of options. “We should stick to a roofed road, still - would rather you not stare at the night sky so much.”

“Afraid I might see something more beautiful than you?” Hermes joked, a tiny laugh attempting to keep the conversation light.

Xiaoli snickered politely. “Close, but not quite - I would rather not have a repeat of the last time you looked up, that is all. I therefore suggest we continue through the woods.”

”Pop?”

Hermes looked as if she was about to say something when suddenly a stuff breeze powered through the trees. The rustling of the leaves seemed to immediately put Xiaoli on edge, her hand rocketing to Hermes’ arm.

“Alright! Let’s get going already - better get this over with sooner rather than later, right?!” Xiaoli said with almost interrupting quickness and pulled Hermes along, keeping a borderline hostile, watchful eye on the canopy above.

“Well hold on, now,” Hermes said as she was tugged along, one hand keeping her club close to her as they blasted through the snapping underbrush, “I don’t think we should just rush through all of this!”

”Zzt!” A crackle erupted from Hermes’ hair.

Xiaoli furrowed her brow anxiously. “Hermes, dear, do you not remember anything? Nothing about the night sky or the… Things that followed?”

“I remember everything,” Hermes insisted, her brow falling, “Horrifying dreams, strange visions while awake, asking K’nell about it.” She twisted her lips as she thought, “I remember he showed me the night sky, it was a test… but what--” She squinted as if trying to force a memory, “I just remember dread, cold shivering dread. The world was empty again.” She shook her head, her long messy hair snagging a few low hangings leaves from their homes as they hurried by.

Xiaoli caressed the palm and fingers of the hand she held softly, her sandy skin giving the move a slightly rough texture. “It’s hard to see from the outside, too… Awful, really. You just stand there, and nothing we do gets any response - unless you start talking gibberish in that odd accent…” She shook her head. “I don’t trust him at all, but I trust the shifting nature of the environment even less. If there’s a chance that the stone ring can help us avoid the night sky, then we should seek it out.”

Hermes opened her mouth and then closed it, “Well, if we are going to do this -- let’s do it the old fashioned way, then.” With a push of her leg she hip checked into Xiaoli, her free arm wrapping around the river-girl’s waist, Xiaoli blushing and smiling reminiscently all the while. Hermes’ sandals fluttered, as if stretching from a long sleep and then all at once the trio sent a shocking boom through the forest, themselves turning into a blur.

The dreamer’s eyes flickered quickly as she zipped between trees and over and under branches. Her eyes drifted upwards, and then as if a needle suddenly sunk into her eyeball, her entire body cringed, a look of terror slicing across her features briefly. Her chest sank and body shivered: a featureless black sky peeked menacingly through the trees -- but in an instant the canopy overtook it once more and she released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, ever thankful for the speed she was going at.

Quickly a wall of trees came flooding in from the distance as they zipped forward. Hermes quickly slowed down, the trio landing softly onto the mossy floor below. Hermes let her hand fall from Xiaoli as she held a hand up to her chin, eyes scanning the trees before her. They had grown in such a way where each giant trunk was pushed up against its neighbor, creating a palisade of impenetrable trees.

“Xiaoli?” Hermes said almost commandingly, eyes still on the trees.

The river girl gave the wall a frown and voiced a quiet, “yes?”

“It would seem we have bumped into an old nemesis of yours,” Hermes’ eyes flicked over to give Xiaoli a look from the side, a curl on the edge of her lips.

Xiaoli rolled her eyes, but could not help a snort-like laugh from escaping her firmly-pressed lips. “You dumby.”

“Oh!” Hermes turned her head, a wide smile on her face, “I got you! Ha! I knew I was funny.” She rested her club on her shoulder and looked back at the tree. She hummed in thought -- a habit picked up from Xiaoli, “So, my first instinct was to smash it all down, but then I remembered that those branches--” She pointed up to the canopy of the trees before them, “Are all that’s keeping the night sky away from us.” She gave Xiaoli a sideways look, “Pretty clever, eh?”

“Yes, yes, quite clever,” Xiaoli returned. “Do you think we can walk along this wall until we reach something of note?”

“Maybe,” Hermes bit a finger, “Or…” She looked over at Xiaoli, “You could cut us a hole? Just big enough to squeeze through.”

“Didn’t you just say this wall keeps the night sky out?”

“Well,” Hermes put a hand on her hip, “Yes, but a small hole; the trees are pretty big, I’m sure one little bitty hole wouldn’t knock ‘em down.”

Xiaoli gave her a skeptical look, but couldn’t seem to find a good counter-argument. Thus, she drew a small circle in the air before the wall, only to see that the leaves and wood covered by the circle began to rot and fade to dust, leaving a Hermes-and-Xiaoli-sized hole.

“There. That ought to do it.”

“So talented,” Hermes smirked, but her hair crackled with indifference. Xiaoli didn’t pay Poppler much mind and without much more, Hermes trotted in front. The eager adventurer slipped through easily, only having to reposition her club once. The Dreamer stretched her legs, a wet dew brushing against her ankles.

She stood in a dim glade, tall dewey grass of a dark green carpeting the area. Rings of mushroom pocked the ground, and the canopy above was so thick that she could barely see much further, the only source of light being a set of glowing runes that swirled across a standing ring of stone.

She strained her eyes, but she couldn’t read the runes. She took a step forward, the sound of Xiaoli clambering through the hole right behind her. The head of her club fell to the ground as she dragged it behind her, eyes perplexed by the suddenly familiar writing. A breeze snaked through her hair, leaving a soft whisper in her ear.

“Why are you so worried?”

Hermes’ eyes widened, a pang of worry seeping into her chest -- had it always been there unbeknownst to her? She grit her teeth and walked on, but the breeze slipped into her ear again.

”Why are you so mad?”

It was true, she didn’t notice it before, but the coals of a burning rage sizzled in her stomach, pushing a tingling energy out to her limbs. Why was she so furious? It mixed with the worry, turning into a stew of emotion, and yet the breeze lapped at her conscious once more.

”Why do you hold so much?

She looked down at her fist, fingers clenched over the club, her other hand on the hilt of her longknife. She sucked in a breath and let go of the hilt.

“I don’t,” She whispered harshly back, her free hand tentatively touching the stone ring before her. She turned her head to look at Xiaoli, but for a moment all she saw was a flash of furious black eyes. She quickly closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, heart racing. Slowly she opened them again, Xiaoli standing in front of her. Her face had contorted with anxious worry.

“Dear… How are you feeling? You look…” She gulped and took her hand in her own. “Would you like to take a short breather?”

"I'm fine," Hermes nodded and gave a reassuring smile, "Let's just do this and hope it doesn't put me off from adventures forever."

Xiaoli looked as though she wanted to continue asking, but evidently decided against it. She squeezed the hand affectionately and gave her a small smile. “Yeah… Yeah, let’s. Just… Make sure to tell me if you feel anything strange, okay?” Xiaoli then gave the stone circle a hard look. “What do you think this is?”

"Bit of a tall order when everything feels strange," Hermes smirked, the light hearted joke not easing her chest or stomach, "But sure, if anything sticks out -- you'll be the first to know."

"Crackle."

"No I stick by that," Hermes grabbed at her hair before scanning the stone ring. She pondered for a moment, eyes glued on the runes and hand on her stomach; it was curling again. "Time to go through then?"

“Yeah. Stay close - it may affect you like the portal into Limbo did.” Xiaoli’s body took on the familiar dim glow and she placed her palm on the stone, and the whole structure began to hum softly. Hermes’ hand squeezed Xiaoli’s and she gently tugged her along with her to the center of the ring. Wisps of white light zapped from the ring as the two approached the gaping center, snapping off of them like jolts of flaming lightning. Hermes’ face held firm, her stomach groaning with displeasure as the light grew and grew, the tendrils growing more frequent until there was only a blinding white and an electric crackle.

Sensation returned.

The first thing that graced Hermes’ senses was a soft music. It nearly reminded her of the palace, but it was laced with a certain sorrow that hit her heart with a forlorn arrow. It was exotic, it was sad and then her vision came back. It was blurred, with pools of different greys mixing and fading into each other. A warm wetness fell down her cheek and she raised a hand to it. With the back of her hand she wiped her face, collecting a tiny puddle of tears -- she was crying.

She felt the sandy skin of Xiaoli touch her arm and she turned away from the empty grey landscape, finding Xiaoli’s face an oasis in the depression. The river girl pulled Hermes into an embrace and took a deep, shivering breath.

“Here, come here… Did you see anything?”

Hermes pulled out of the hug, “No, I-” Her eyes widened. Behind Xiaoli stood a completely monochrome figure, it looked exactly like her save for long feathery hair. Two dark eyes stared unblinking at Hermes, a flat line for a mouth. In its hands it held a strange instrument with a fat hollow bottom and long neck of two strings. It’s fingers were dancing along the length, while the other hand held a bow to it, plucking the sounds into existence. Behind the figure the empty grey of this world swirled.

Xiaoli turned her head quickly and spotted for an instant a gray shade in the middle of fading. She sucked in a breath and raised her hands in preparation for battle, sand coalescing into a dagger in her hand. However, whatever it had been was already far too gone.

“... What-... What was that?”

Hermes spun around, her sandals making tiny splashing sounds as if she was standing in a puddle -- but all around was just endless grey. She squinted, the anxiety in her stomach balling into a stone and boiling into something else entirely, “I don’t really know.”

Though the empty landscape never shifted, the sounds of the instrument lingered, each pluck causing Hermes’ left eye to twitch. She tilted her head, as if listening to a voice under the music, her eyes rising to look back at Xiaoli, “I think we should keep going...”

”Pop?”

“I don’t know where,” Hermes hissed at Poppler, a stress in her voice. She immediately swallowed and sighed, “I’m sorry, Poppler.”

”Zzt...”

“Let’s just go forward,” Hermes let the head of her club fall onto the ethereal ground as she dragged it behind her, kicking her sandals in what was her best guess for ‘forward.’

“Babe, I-...” Xiaoli began, but stopped herself. She sighed noiselessly and stuffed her hands in the folds of her robe.

“What!?” Hermes spun around, her voice a tad more aggressive than it should’ve been, the music quickening. She ran a hand through her hair and let out a hollow whistle, eyes bouncing off of Xiaoli, “Sorry,” she cocked her head, eyes abuzz with frustration “What do you need?”

Xiaoli’s eyes widened, then jumped away from Hermes, turning to the ground. “N-nothing, it’s fine… You’re right, we should continue.”

“I know,” Hermes said uncharacteristically, “That’s why I said it -- forward, away from here.” The dreamer turned again, her fingers shaking with energy, only tamed by clutching her club tighter.

A pained expression washed over Xiaoli’s face, and her eyes did not move away from the ground for a long while as she followed her wife deeper into the dream world.

A tense silence followed, save for the plucking of the instrument. Each resounding strum seemed to cause Hermes to flinch, her footing quickening into a faster walk. She could almost feel the pain she caused Xiaoli linger behind her, but as it swirled into the furnace that was her stomach, she just felt angrier. Her lip trembled slightly and she tucked it behind a bite, eyes closing with frustration.

Xiaoli, meanwhile, kept a somewhat cold distance from Hermes, as if the raging radiation burned her delicate sandy skin. Her way of walking was careful and somber, her neck inclined forward all the while. The hem of the robe swished airlessly around her feet, dragging across the empty plane of existence. After a while, she went, “Hermes?”

“What?” It came as a snap.

Xiaoli gulped and feigned a smile. “Do you remember when Chagatai and Wenbo stole your quoll shoes and buried them in the vegetable garden?”

“Yes,” The answer was short and sizzling, a dam between Hermes’ growing rage and her voice.

A small snort of laughter forcefully escaped Xiaoli’s nostril. “Y-yeah, it took us a week to find them and by then, they had already begun to mould. You scolded them so hard, and of course Chatagai took the brunt of it because of who he is.” She giggled and smiled weakly. “... He probably still would do that for any of his siblings, or children…”

There was a long pause, save for the music, as if Hermes was digesting the story. The music quickened, and Hermes could feel it in her heart. Her brow furrowed, “Are you trying to make me happy?” Her voice was quiet, yet jittering with energy.

Xiaoli’s mouth flattened out. “Trying’s a good word.”

Hermes looked over her shoulder, her face stern, “Why can’t I just be mad? I never get to just be angry, I-- I--” She closed her mouth, brow slanting, “I’m sorry Xiaoli, but-- can I just be mad?” The plucking twanged and Hermes closed her eyes, letting a slow breath out of her nostrils, teeth clenched. The grey figure flickered, walking next to Xiaoli, plucking away.

“Is that okay?” Hermes asked, the energy in her voice more of an assertion than a question.

“... This is all very new to me - usually I’m the angry one,” Xiaoli admitted. “It just feels wrong - you’re not supposed to be angry. The realm is affecting you, it must be.”

"So I can't be mad?" Hermes huffed, "I can't always be so cheery -- does it have to be the realm's fault? I can't just be mad!?" Her voice raised and she exhaled quickly, "What about me, Xiaoli, why can't I just be pissed for once?"

She stopped and turned to Xiaoli and the musician, ignoring the latter as the music increased yet again. Hermes' face was reddened, her eyes watery with frustration, "I have plenty to be mad about!" Her fist clenched.

Xiaoli recoiled, seemingly unable to really wrap her head around the concept that Hermes could be this angry. She cleared her throat, opened her mouth and thought better of what she had planned to say. Eventually, she just replied with, “Want to talk about it? The things that make you angry?”

"It won't change anything," Hermes defended loudly, "You don't want to hear it anyway."

“But I do, Hermes!” Xiaoli insisted. “Please, just talk to me. Like you always do.”

“Fine!” Hermes’ body shivered with anger, “I hate Galbar, it doesn’t make any sense and the--” She cut herself off, eyes flickering with rage, the music following her thoughts. She clenched her teeth, “It is all wrong, and we have to pay for it -- our babies have to.”

“W-wait, wait, what’s the problem with Galbar? What is it doing to our children?” Xiaoli asked in baffled confusion.

Hermes groaned, “No, what I’m saying is it--” She let out a frustrated grunt, “Xiaoli. I... don’t... matter... to... Galbar. Our... kids... don’t... matter! I made... we made life and we didn’t.. I didn’t.” Hermes furrowed her brow, “Why am I alive if I’m just supposed to go away?”

The music stopped.

Xiaoli’s look flickered around to pin down the source of the silent void that had replaced the music. Feeling anxious moisture on her brow, she took a step closer to Hermes. “Hermes, you’re not supposed to go away - you have a purpose; our children have a purpose. Where are these thoughts coming from?”

“This isn’t about purpose,” Hermes anger choked for a moment, as if snagged on the silence, “I’ve always had a purpose, Xiaoli -- but I am mortal, our children our mortal.” Hermes pursed her lips, the anger resurging, “We aren’t allowed to last forever on Galbar, we are meant to go away -- so why do we even have to live first?” Hermes shook her head, “I’m not a tool, Xiaoli, I’m not a source of entertainment, pity, pride, or even worship...” Her eyes flared and her voice rose, “I’m Hermes, and I don’t want to go away-- I don’t want to watch our children go away.” She exhaled sharply, “And I can be mad about that.”

Hermes looked down, as if the rage was subsiding. There was a soft crackle in her hair and Hermes let out a softer breath. Her eyes seemed to scan something that wasn’t there, as if examining a thought. As she did, the grey world seemed to fade into blackness.

“... Hermes,” Xiaoli said with a somber sigh. “None of us are meant to be around forever. In time, even the gods might shrivel up and blow away as dust on the winds. As all life is born, so it must eventually die so it can power the cycle that brings more life into this universe. It’s tough thinking about death, I know, but-...” She stopped herself, surveying the surrounding void. “... But it’s not coming for any of us any time soon.”

"Then what's the snapping point?" Hermes voice raised but never reached a cord of anger, everything sinking deeper into the darkness. "My original purpose was to experience but I broke that mould, K'nell praised it and I felt good -- only to be told later on that none of it mattered and we all are some... Fuel for a process that I could give a damn about."

The grey flickered back on, and the music began, Hermes' voice having found its energy again, "No, I'm here now, Xiaoli, and I'm alive -- there has to be a better reason for life than some sick ring-a-round or damn life, damn Galbar, and damn creation. There is more than purpose, Xiaoli, there is reason -- and I demand it!"

All at once the grey world suddenly bloomed. Greens and yellows swirled back in -- the smell of wet soil, the creaking of trees. They now stood under a mess of gnarled branches peppered with crab apples. The ground was a short dark moss, and the forest stretched in all directions.

Hermes stood in shock, her anger leaving her with a breath. The figure with the instrument slowly faded away again, its instrument having long since dissolved into nothing. Xiaoli’s now-teary eyes nevertheless took on a skeptical scowl as she surveyed the forest.

“Ugh! I hate this place so much - now where do we go?!”

Hermes furrowed her brow, the anger in her stomach residing slowly. The energy stayed, but the blind anger was gone -- it was a fury, but a different kind. She sighed, the cool forest air swirling into her lungs, "Xiaoli, I--" She stopped."I wish I could say I'm sorry for the things I said, but I'm not-- I am sorry for how I said it though."

Xiaoli’s frustration with the environment subsided as well. She gave Hermes a sad, weak smile and said, “It’s… It’s alright, dear, it’s just… Uncanny, seeing you this way. I didn’t know how to react. I won’t pester you about it anymore, though…”

"I think you should," Hermes countered, "Clearly I have some things pent up..." She frowned, "Do you want a hug?"

“Yes, please,” Xiaoli whimpered and held out her arms.

Hermes sighed and stepped in, putting her arms around her wife. Almost instantly, a voice like escaping steam sounded.

"Ssso, you're the onesss doing all that ssscreaming?"

The two turned, a surprised crackle coming from Hermes' hair. In front of the two stood an animated skeleton, flanked by a nearly identical looking ethereal copy, and a ball of light.

Sleep Three: The Sleepening

Hermes, Poppler, and Xiaoli go to limbo, make jokes, have a swell time while tension builds..

Then they pass through a ring of stone and shit gets weird. Hermes encounters a being, and gets pissed... She argues against Galbar and then eventually finds herself in another wood... Then cliffhanger.

Done.

A lil music for ya

On our way to Beyonder

Prestige = 35

Grisaille Genesis

Ratcher

Echoes rampaged Jarren’s mind: several attempts at convincing the crowd he wasn’t Raatcher gone awry, with them suspecting him either modest or changed by the stress of the battle. Some even claimed his nerves were simply shot from the fight, and that he should rest -- a prospect Jarren warmed up to once his adrenaline left. There was no way Jarren could go back to his little hole, so after some leg work, he found Ratcher’s own bed.

It wasn’t bad -- in fact it was much better than his own by a mile. Not only did Ratcher have his own room in a stone house, but he had two beds and a litter of things. If there was anyone to be pretending to be, Jarren hit the jackpot.

Jarren made a satisfied face as he stepped up to the hay and cloth mattress, running his hand along it. He had changed into the dead man’s clothes -- a simple brown tunic and stitched together pants of various cloth. The other denizens of the hovel were quiet, leaving Jarren to his thoughts. The man plopped down onto the bed with a poof and gave the room another once over.

His newly acquired sword and shield leaned against the second bed, and inbetween the two was a rotten crate covered in nicknacks. A heavy blanket covered the doorway and clothes were folded by each bed. Interestingly enough, by the second bed Jarren spotted a single dress made of rough fabric dyed a faded blue -- and he’d be a liar if he didn’t suddenly get up to try and hold it up against himself. He twitched his nose as the scent of a woman entered an inhale and he closed his eyes.

“Tied, this is creepy.” Crumpling the dress into a ball he tossed it at the crate with a snapping throw. It thumped against the wood, jostling something stuck between the crate and one of the mattresses. Jarren narrowed his eyes and snuck on over, rawhide shoes creaking against the floorboards. With a flick of his wrist he snatched the object from its hiding spot. It was a stack of binded vellum -- a book. Jarren’s brows arched and he turned to sit on the bed, setting the book into his lap.

Immediately the thin book opened to a spot where a cloth was stuck between the pages. Furrowing his brow, Jarren plucked the cloth from the book and upon realizing it was folded around something, he unwrapped it. A crisp piece of parchment laid in the cloth, it’s edges nearly brown from age and alien etchings written in the secret brown ink of Illistair littered the page. Jarren nodded slowly, a fundamental truth flickering into his mind: he can’t read.

He folded the ancient paper back into its cloth and poured his eyes over the book. It was written with different letters, the kind he saw now and again in the city. He rubbed his hand over the charcoal letters, suddenly retracting his hand as one of them began to smudge. Curious, he flipped through some more pages, but it was all letters -- until.

Jarren’s eyes widened and a face stared back at him, a soft smile on drawn lips. The visage of a regal looking woman was sketched on the page. Jarren’s stomach pumped, it was very rare to see something like this, let alone done so well. He ran his hand on blank of the paper, eager not to ruin the drawing. His eyes followed the lines, from her jaw, straight nose, stern eyes, all the way up to her scalp, where a crown lay. Jarren snapped the book shut, his stomach abuzz with strange feelings.

He sat in silence for what felt like forever, contemplating the strange turn his life had taken. In truth, he had no idea... but he wanted to.

“I need to see Greum.”

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™!

A Confusing Post

The morning heliopolis cast its gold over the red fields of Tendlepog and a stirring wind leapt the grass into a waving dance. The sky was still painted pink from the dawn, and the clouds were saturated with that morning golden glow only the early and very late can enjoy -- and on the horizon peeks of a child’s blue began to bleed into the sky.

This scene hung openly above a flat rock amid the fields. It was an old stone, and on it sat a dreamer, one black panted leg over the other. A draping coat blossomed behind him, his eyes a striking silver, cornered by experienced wrinkles. His lips were a line, serious, and his alabaster hair was combed and long.

His fingers slid down the neck of a stringed instrument, causing a tiny squeak of friction. The hollow of the instrument, a wooden dome, sat in his lap, the neck sticking up past his left shoulder. Slowly the dreamers eyes closed and he sucked in a long silent breath through his lips -- exhaling it just as quietly through his nostrils. As the last puff of air escaped him, his finger plucked the first string over the hollow, announcing the music to come.

One string, two string, a quick strum, a new sound. He raised a single eyebrow as he strummed, eyes closed. The wind seemed to play alongside him, rustling the grass in such a way as to compliment the slow thoughtful plucks and suddenly bursts of sound. The vibrations resounded over the field, caressing the dreamer’s body in the melody. His fingers moved as if independent of each other, lifting and plucking in perfect rhythm. The clouds seemed to part, heliopolis itself attempting to listen.

Across the field, two dreamers stood -- one man and one son. Golden speckles adorned the face of the man as he watched on, his ears melting into the music. The musician seemed to pay them no mind, his hands as graceful as the song and just as the song hit its zenith -- an angelic voice called out but the musician’s lips remained sealed.

It swirled between the trio, dancing along with the sweetgrass as it sang -- “A wistful-simple thought...” The voice trailed with the sorrowful music, fingers strumming.

“...Crest o’ morning dew ‘mid a nest...”

“...Since birth it has been in your chest...”

“...Sorrow on the wind...”

“... a whisper from within...’

The voice called out, holding its notes in tandem with the increasing volume of the music. Slowly the music began to fade, only to suddenly belt -- the voice yelling out as a crystal chime raveled in the notes of the instrument.

“...Your wind is howling...”

“...The land is fouling...”

“...Thoughts of old...”

“...For the new, sold...”

The musician shook his head slowly with the rhyme of the strings, the voice pleading with the ears of all the dreamers.

“...A simple-wistful thought...”

“...Close your eyes as taught...”

“...Cancer of time flies...”

“...Old feelings will again rise...”

The strum of the instrument picked up and the voice howled with it, foregoing the chime of heaven and taking on the voice of the wind--

“...A simple fruit, a tiny seed -- in your chest since birth...”

“...A scary thought, a sad idea -- it waits for you...”

“...It blooms, a weeping flower -- it knows the truth...”

“...It knows that you don’t remember...”

“...Yet you still feel it...”

“...You were there before...”

“...And now you are here-after...”

“...Was your birth a death, is your death to be a birth...”

“...Who is to say, save a flower...”
“...A wistful-simple thought, lost in the puddle of reality...”

The instrument jerked and the music faded away. The gold speckled stared in awe, his eyes a runny pink, a tear stain on his cheek. His son looked up at him and the two took a tentative step closer to the musician.

“Who are you?”

The musician slowly opened his eyes and stood up. The silver eyes of the man were sheened with unfallen tears. The sight caught the others by surprise and then swallowed their breath. With a voice, as if strained from singing, the musician simply said.

“...Close your eyes with me and pray...”

His voice fell to almost a whisper as the dreamers did so, “Hear what the seed has to say.”

The wind blew.

The grass rustled.

The sun’s heat fell on their heads.

Two hearts suddenly thumped.

Summary

K’nell sings a song to Li and his son.

Grisaille Genesis

Map has been added to the Know All.