Kho — Roleplayer Guild

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Level 1 Hero
10 Khookies

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The Bard
Level 4 Demigod of Art (Music)
22 Might, 82,531 Worshippers

This post takes place ~1 Post Realta

Juras and Zerabil arrive at the Gate and enter New Chronos. Juras has brought with him the corpse of the Sculptor.
Zerabil meets Seihdhara (whom he appears to recognise, but doesn't know why) and they have a fun conversation.
The two gods are lain on the stone and the Bard places a blanket of Arksynth on them, saying that they will awaken in time.
Mora and Juras speak, and it transpires that Sin's blood will be used to increase Victor mental and emotional discipline and resistance. Some of Vestec's blood is also needed.
Juras tells Mora about the Sculptor telecommunication network.
Mora is worried that Juras has been influenced by Jvan, but the two sit and put their knees together - Juras will show him directly all he had learnt and seen.
The Vowzrid Mark undergoes a change - it now has the forget-me-not, Belruarc's flower.

Bard:
2 Might used to create Arksynth blanket with the intention of 'healing' Gadar, Vowzra, and Belruarc. Unexpected result when interacting with Vowzrid and Belruarcian energies: the three souls are bound together.
(Behind the scenes) 2 Might used to create Arksynth cloning siphon to replicate Sin's blood and produce more Arksynth. Pool of Sin's blood now available to Victors for new training regimen.
18 Might remaining.

Zerabil:
10 Khookies earned [14,000+ relevant kharacters]


Old Bark-Skin speared the sky, disappearing into clouds of grey and white long before its pinnacle came into view. Were one to attempt to walk its entire girth, perhaps it would take a day. And though all around trees grew and flourished and there was glorious life, there was yet a taint of death. Not a squirrel, not a fox, not an ant moved through the undisturbed snow - even their footprints were fast disappearing behind. Perhaps up amongst the branches, far from the ground, life remained, but here on the ground there was nothing. Juras extended his senses with unease to confirm this observation; and indeed, there was no life. That dark hill... He would have to investigate it when the time permitted.
'What's at the top?' Zerabil asked, looking up at where Old Bark-Skin disappeared into the heavens.
'Ice and snow, probably.' Juras said, returning his attention to the son of gods.
'Have you ever been there?' The Victor shook his head in the negative. Not too far from where they stood was the Oath of Stilldeath. 'And that?' Zerabil asked, a very sudden melancholy gripping him. The longer he looked at it the heavier the melancholy grew, creeping down his back and up his chest, dripping into the hot pit of his abdomen and suffocating it all with icy mists and gloom. 'It looks so... sad.'
'It is the Oath of the Crippled One. An oath taken by all the gods who sign it, pledging to nevermore slay one another.' Zerabil seemed surprised to hear this. The other gods actually cared enough for each other to sign such a thing?
'Really? That's amazing.' He approached the monument, sniffling slightly as he did so. It was not the cold - the monument itself had an aura that almost forced the beholder to weep.

Here lies the memory of our sister of knowledge Vulamera and our brother of time Vowzra. Here in their tragic deaths, we swear an oath to never seek the death of any sibling of ours signed onto this pact. We do this for the sake of our souls as well as the integrity of our hearts, for death begets death, and grief begets grief. May this place within the gate be a place where no god sets foot to do battle. In sacred remembrance of this, we declare: Fate shall no longer toy bloody games between our bodies into this timeline.




Tears streamed down his face and he could not withhold his sobs. 'Dad...' he moaned, 'm- mum.' His knees shook, but he did not quite fall to the ground. He could not take his eyes from the monument. A step closer... but then an ethereal force gently forced him from the place.
'It is not good to get too close. People have been known to go before it and never leave, been known to die of grief. It is not good to lose oneself before this stone of sorrow.' Zerabil wiped his tears away and nodded.
'Y- yeah. I won't go near it again.' He paused and looked back at it briefly. 'It- it says that only those whose names are on the stone are protected. Does that mean that those not on it aren't protected?' Juras cocked his head.
'Does it really say that? I have never read it. That would be odd indeed.'
'And it curses "Fate", says that Fate toys with them. Is Fate another god?' Juras let out an irritated sound.
'The stone blasphemes. Fate does not play games. It is not just another god. It is a Supreme Being, an Almighty that guards and protects and guides. It protects us from the great unknown, but all it receives in return is ungratefulness and hatred from those who know nothing about it. Fate is to the gods what the gods are to simple mortals, and like simple mortals the gods curse Fate out of ignorance. Fate is not like the Jvanic Entity - a sadistic being that toys with us -, it is not like the Soul Mother - childlike and seeking entertainment -, it does not play games.'
'And you know this how?' Zerabil asked, his tone rather cutting.
'I, of myself, know nothing Master. It is the Celestial Above that knows, and it is the Celestial Above that taught us this. And the Celestial Above has spoken with Fate - it is the very Vicegerent of Fate.' Zerabil seemed uncertain. Of course, he was drawn to believe in the authority his father possessed. But at the same time, there was a lingering doubt - a doubt which could only be soothed by direct knowledge. He would speak with Fate and he would come to know the truth.

Juras turned and walked towards the Gate. Nearby was a rather large humanoid figure formed entirely plant. It reminded Zerabil of his father, except it was more green. It was nestled atop a strange orb of bark which had at some point been shattered from the inside (for it was hollow, much like an egg). 'What's that?' Zerabil asked.
'That is the Guardian Restored. He guards the Gate. In the times before the coming of the Jvanic Entity, he was a Victor not much different from any other - only that he had been blessed with the power to transform, at will, into a silk-spider. His soul was tied to the Gate, and he only permitted entrance to the Worthy. When the Jvanic Entity came, he refused it entry - for he saw that it was Unworthy. It cared little, however, and shattered his form so that his blood dyed the skies crimson for miles around. And yet, despite the utter annihilation of his physical form, his soul's link with the Gate remained unbroken. He waited, and with time he found a resting place on this blessed Orb - made of the bark of the Celestial Above, once host to Life itself, and blessed thereafter by Our Mother of the Words. He latched on to this divine relic, and here he stands restored once more, returned into the physical world to continue his divinely anointed duty.' Zerabil seemed rather impressed by this.
'Does he speak? How does he guard the Gate?'
'He does not speak - but Victors who are telepathically attuned can listen to his innermost thoughts and see into his memories. Beware, however, for they are the stuff that broken minds are made of. And from time to time, he may loose an unearthly groan which reverberates even to the peripheries of the Deepwood. As for how he guards the Gate - I guess only the Unworthy will ever have the misfortune of finding out. Come, let us.' And with that, Juras caused the floating bodies of the gods to pass through, alongside the substance from Xerxes and the blood rain. There had been a final addition to Juras' strange collection, however - a sealed-beak Sculptor. Holding Zerabil's hand as the Sculptor's corpse passed into Chronos, the two then stepped through the Gate together.

New Chronos spread before them as paradise, its music drifted to their waiting ears, its fragrance pervaded the air, and, which was more, there was a sheer wonder, a strange fullness, to every moment that passed by.
'Welcome home, Master.' Juras said softly. Zerabil smiled and lowered his head, as though in shyness.
'It... it's beautiful.'

'Battle Brother Juras! You are returned,' came a voice. Two Victors stood before the Gate.
'Battle Brother Yiftakh!' Juras cried, and the two embraced. The returned Victor turned to the other, 'Battle Sister Seihdhara,' he said as he embraced her.
'Welcome back Battle Brother, you have been away an age. How went your venture on Galbar?'
'There were failures and successes, Battle Sister, but I came to learn much. My venture is far from over, however, this is but a pause before I take to the road again.'
'Truly, Battle Brother Juras, you are indomitable.' It was Yiftakh who spoke. 'And I see that you have brought these with you,' he gestured to the bodies of the gods and to Zerabil.
'Yes. I must speak with Battle Brother Morarom immediately.' Juras said. Yiftakh nodded and moved aside, and Battle Sister Seihdhara walked with Juras and Zerabil as they headed inland.
'And who is this charming young man?' Seihdhara asked, her bandaged and hooded head turning towards Zerabil.
'He is Our Master Zerabil,' Juras responded. Seihdhara was silent for a few moments.
'Our Master Zerabil? How is that...'
'It is a lengthy tale, Battle Sister.'
'I see...' her head turned once more towards the little boy, who was eyeing her curiously. Her hood suddenly fell away and her bandages unravelled to reveal her face beneath. She smiled at Zerabil.
'It is an honour to meet you at last, Master. I am Battle Sister Seihdhara, seventy-eighth of the Hallowed Hundred.' Zerabil made no response. He just looked at her in stunned silence.



'Se- Seihdhara?' His voice came at last, uncertain. 'I...' he frowned and shook his head. I know you, he was about to say. But that was impossible, stupid.
'Master?' Both she and Juras had stopped walking, looking at the frozen Zerabil.
'Uh, what? No. I'm fine. The honour is mine... blessèd Seihdhara.' The boy said, shaking himself from his reverie. 'Why... um. Why d'you take your mask off?'
'Oh, for effect,' she said. There was a brief pause... then her eyes lit up with humour. Zerabil chuckled hesitantly. 'I wished to see Our Master with my own eyes, that is all.' She added as the bandages began to return to place.
'N- no, stay like that. It's- uh, it's nice to be able to see people's eyes. It's weird when you're all covered.' She gave him a knowing sidelong glance as the bandages fell away once more.
'Oh really, is that so? Should Battle Brother Juras unveil too?' Zerabil seemed to consider her words seriously for a few moments before firmly shaking his head.
'Nah, it's alright, he can stay covered.' They maintained an air of seriousness for a few moments more. Then the two burst into chuckles. Juras rolled his eyes inwardly.
'So how did Battle Brother Juras find you?' Seihdhara asked, looking at Zerabil with curiosity, her smile unwavering.
'I was in the Venomweald, trying to get my parents somewhere safe, when Juras appeared out of nowhere. At first I wasn't too sure what to think of everything he was saying, but I went along with him anyway. And you? How'd you end up here?' The moment the words left his lips, he realised it was a stupid question - was it not obvious? This was her home. 'Uh, I mean, obviously this is your home, born here and all that.' He quickly added. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow and shook her head.
'No actually, I wasn't born here. I was killed by the gods long ago. But the Celestial Above restored me and brought me here. Along with the others, I was of the first denizens of Chronos.' Zerabil looked visibly shocked.
'You- you were killed?' There was a certain numb look in his eyes, 'w- why?' She shrugged.
'I guess they thought it was fun.' Zerabil's visage darkened visibly, and he looked down.
'It wasn't just me, obviously. There were some fifty ogres, four hain, six angels, five pronobi and seven humans - including me. And two Lifprasillians. We've grown since then, but together we were the first generation, the first Chronosians. Juras here is a very distant descendant of mine, for instance.' Zerabil's eyes widened.
'WHAT?' he looked from Juras to Seihdhara. 'That means that... y- you're married?' She let out a giggle at his shock.
'We do official rotations every few centuries, everybody's been with everybody.' Zerabil's shock turned into disgust. 'It makes things more interesting - and if you find the one for you, there's no need to rotate at all.' Zerabil's disgust did not wane.
'That's just weird. Urgh.' Seihdhara raised an eyebrow.
'On what basis do you think it's weird?' She asked testingly.
'It's just not normal is all.' He spoke defensively.
'And what is this normal you speak of? Where'd you get it from?' Zerabil frowned and shrugged.
'I dunno, it's just a feeling.' Seihdhara pursed her lips. 'What?' he asked.
'See, there are some who would say that's where your argument falls flat - feelings are no basis for anything. But I'm not so sure. There are some things we can only know subjectively.' Zerabil considered her words thoughtfully.
'Yeah? Like what?' She shrugged.
'Many things. Happiness. Sadness... love. But these are obvious things. Less obvious are things like... what is good? What is evil? Is there a universal standard by which each can be identified? Are our feelings towards such things a reflection of that universal standard? Or are we just kidding ourselves and the truth is that... there is nothing. Nothing at all.' She looked at Zerabil, who was staring at her pensively, his brows furrowed somewhat. 'Scary thought right?'
'Yeah... b- but obviously there's not nothing. There are gods, and there are gods above those gods - like Fate, right? There's a big picture.' Seihdhara smiled and tucked an amber tress behind her ear, then gave him a level stare.
'Have you seen Fate?' Zerabil was taken aback by the question and the intensity of her stare.
'Well, n- no, but Juras said-'
'And you think it's true because Juras said it?' She did not speak unkindly, but the question gave him pause.
'No, obviously not.' He eventually said. 'But alot of what he's said has been true so far, so I've no reason to believe the rest isn't. Obviously if I come to learn that something he said isn't true, I'd change my view. Till then though... it doesn't harm.'
'That's a fair approach I guess. True until proven otherwise. But what happens when you can't prove it?'
'Surely anything and everything can be proven in some way?' He asked hesitantly.
'Well, that depends on how you define proof. What is sufficient proof?'
'Uh... I dunno. If someone says something and they can prove it?'
'And how would they prove it. If I, for instance, said that stars are giant fireflies, and that I had seen them up close - is that proof? Would you believe me?'
'Uh... are they? They're not... are they?' Seihdhara chuckled. 'I mean, I'd have to see a star up close too first - that's how you prove it! By showing me.'
'Hmm, I guess that works for some things - but if I told you that killing is evil, how would I show you?'
'Uh... I dunno, it just is, isn't it? Everyone knows that.'
'Is it? Do the gods who killed me know that?'
'M- maybe they didn't... maybe that's why-'
'But you said killing is evil because everyone knows it is...'
'Well, maybe not everyone. But just because some people don't know or don't think it's evil, doesn't mean it isn't!'
'So, what makes it evil? It's clearly not subject to universal consensus - gods and mortals alike kill wantonly.'
'I can't give you a reason - but I know it's not nice, it's not good. You're hurting people - it's not something you enjoy. People don't enjoy being killed or injured or tortured.'
'So it's a matter of what we enjoy and what we don't, is it? If we enjoy something it's good, and if we don't it's evil?' Zerabil frowned and shook his head.
'Well, no, not exactly - because, apparently, you can enjoy killing others. So it can't be that. It's more that... if we wouldn't want it done to us, it's evil.' Seihdhara cocked her head and frowned.
'But people dislike different things. Something one person dislikes another may enjoy.'
'Well, yes. But that's not true for everything. No one likes being killed, or being robbed, or being cheated. There are certain fundamental things that everyone dislikes or avoids, things which are... well, universally undesirable, I guess.'
'Is death undesirable?'
'Well, no one wants to die... ideally.'
'So death is evil?'
'I guess... no. I don't know. Maybe we shouldn't try to define evil. Maybe evil is just whatever isn't good.' Seihdhara gave him a thoughtful look.
'Go on then, what is good?'
'Things everyone strives towards - like, building a family, becoming stronger, gaining knowledge. These things are good.'
'Why are they good - let us say, for the sake of arguement, that everyone does indeed strive for these things. Why do they?' Zerabil furrowed his eyebrows and bits his lips.
'Well, because...' he looked at the ground as he walked and thought, 'because...' then he looked up suddenly, his eyes alight with some kind of epiphanic realisation, 'because they're useful to us! Anything that's useful to us is good!' Seihdhara nodded slightly.
'That's certainly quite an interesting idea. Still problematic, raises questions still, but it is workable. Utility as the measure of goodness...'
'Uggh, I dunno... tell me what you think. How do we work out what is good and evil?' Seihdhara laughed and shook her head.
'Nop, you think some more and come back to me. You've got some pretty good ideas already - this utility things is definitely interesting. But have a think about it - are there any problems with it? How would you go about solving those problems, if there are any.' Zerabil huffed and smiled, a certain contentment in his eyes.
'Fine, I'll think about it.' He paused for a few moments before looking up at Seihdhara, 'you're pretty fun. I liked that.' Seihdhara seemed surprised at this, but then she smiled also.
'You know what they say - the life of the mind is the only life worth living. Perhaps not the only life worth living, but it is certainly a life worth living. And a life bereft of thought- why, it is no life at all.' Zerabil smiled and nodded eagerly.
'You're right! That's so true...'

They remained in comfortable silence for the remainder of their journey, and Zerabil was somewhat disappointed when they finally stopped - something about walking and seeing, with Seihdhara there by him, was oddly nice. They had been brought to a stone on which sat a massive Victor. His head, unveiled, was that of a bear. The colour of his fur seemed to be shifting constantly, and a strange ink-like stain (whose colour was also shifting) moved slowly all over his head, disappearing beneath his Victor's garb.
'Battle Brother Juras,' the bear spoke as it rose to its feet, 'it is good to see you have returned. I am certain there is much you wish to speak about.' The bear's voice was powerful, calming.
'Yes Battle Brother Morarom. I return with the Celestial Above and Our Mother of the Words,' and here the bodies of the floating gods were placed gently on Morarom's stone. The bear moved off it and looked at the two.
'Yes, I was informed the moment Battle Brother Yiftakh found out... but Battle Brother...' Morarom spoke with a frown, 'the female is...' he looked to Juras questioningly.
'She does not appear to be alive, no.' Morarom's frown deepened, his moving tattoo blackening and his fur taking on a dark red hue. Before he could speak, however, a figure appeared above the stone and landed softly beside him. The bear bowed his head in respect. 'Master.'
'Old Morarom, have no fear. Battle Brother Juras has brought with him our ruin and our salvation also,' and with a gesture of the Bard's hand, the glass containing the strange substance from Xerxes cracked and opened, and the strange stuff floated out. The Bard whispered to it, and it writhed and seemed to grow.

'What is that?' Morarom asked.
'If my visions are true and the Cube's whispers are any clue, then it is the flesh of a god.' The Bard said. Morarom took a step away from the substance, somewhat horrified. It was writhing and expanding, bubbling as the Bard whispered to it.
'Is... is it alive?' It was Zerabil who asked. The Bard looked down at his brother with a small smile.
'In a very distant sort of way, different to you or I.' The godflesh was spread out until it had become thin and shroud-like. The demigod covered the two gods with it - it was so thin as to be more or less transparent. What remained of the substance the Bard caused to fold on itself for future use. 'Now we must wait. Leave them and worry no more. They will rise in time.' And with that the demigod rose up into the sky.

'Brother!' Zerabil shouted, looking up at him. The Bard looked down and smiled.
'We will speak, little Zerabil. In time. All in time.' And he disappeared over the mountains and beyond the red clouds.
'So this is Our Master Zerabil,' Morarom, having descended from the little hillock on which the stone was, approached him with a wide smile, 'I am Battle Brother Morarom Oramomaro, first first of the Hallowed Hundred.' Zerabil frowned in confusion.
'First first? What do you mean?'
'The Hallowed Hundred has three firsts. I am the first first.' Zerabil raised an eyebrow at this.
'What?' He paused as he tried to work it out, 'you mean... there are three who are number one?' Mora nodded with a smile. Zerabil paused again. 'So you mean that... the Hallowed Hundred aren't one hundred?' Mora smiled and nodded again as he spoke.
'No, the Hallowed Hundred are not one hundred. They are one-hundred and thirteen.' Zerabil blinked a few times. He looked at Seihdhara, who smiled awkwardly.
'So if there are one-hundred and thirteen, why are they called the Hallowed Hundred? Shouldn't they be called the Hallowed Hundred and Thirteen?'
'Well, that would be more accurate, yes. But it would sound terrible, don't you think. Far too much of a mouthful.' Zerabil rubbed his forehead and the side of his face at the bear's words. A walking, talking bear spewing nonsense - just more weird things to add to the list.
'I think I really need some rest right now.' He managed.
'Of course!' Mora declared, 'Battle Sister Seihdhara, please see to it that Our Master is well-rested.' She bowed her head respectfully and, taking Zerabil's hand, quickly led him away.
'That is the most stupid thing I've ever heard in my life.' He muttered when they were out of earshot.
'He can still hear you,' she said with a barely veiled smile, 'and you're what, two days old? You'll come across far more stupid things.'
'Not two days old...' he grumbled.

When they were gone, Mora turned to Juras. He looked at the blood contained in the orb of Wi. 'Is that what Our Master the Bard instructed you to collect?' He asked. Juras shook his head.
'Not all of it. It is the blood of the Fiend. I was not able to collect anything from the Execrable Chaos. When I return next, I will not be without it.' Mora nodded slowly and extended his Wi to relieve Juras of carrying the blood. 'But Battle Brother, what do we need this for?' Mora inspected the blood closely for a few moments before responding.
'It will be used to further hone the mental discipline and emotional self-control of Victors. We will administer it in minuscule amounts at first, to only the most disciplined Victors. With time, and as mental and emotional resistance increases, we will raise the dosage. Once you acquire the blood of the Execrable Chaos, the mixture will be complete.' Juras cocked his head.
'But Battle Brother, we only have a limited supply of this blood.' Mora smiled knowingly.
'Our Master the Bard has the solution.' Juras was quiet, head turned towards Mora expectantly, 'suffice to say that we will have a little pool of the vile stuff.' He gestured to the Sculptor's corpse, 'and what is this you have brought with you? It seems to me the corpse of a Jvanic being.'
'Yes, Battle Brother. It is a Jvanic horror. I came across it as I journeyed from Xerxes - I have made a monumental discovery; it appears that these creatures are all connected. It is a vast system of telepathic communication, far more complex and advanced than anything I have seen. At any one moment, any Jvanic horror can be in contact with every other Jvanic horror in existence - no matter how vast the distances that separate them.' Mora seemed visibly stunned by this.
'No matter how far...' he looked at the Sculptor's corpse. Not even Treeminds, with their incredibly deep telepathic bond with all other Treeminds, could maintain the link over long distances. 'And how did you come to know of this link, Battle Brother?' Mora asked.
'I was able to break into the system. Even now if I focus...' he paused and raised his head. 'W-well, that's odd. I don't seem able to listen in. Chronos must be acting to disrupt the link. On Galbar I was able to connect with the system at will.' Mora frowned deeply at this revelation.
'Battle Brother, are you certain that is wise. You are venturing into the domain of the Entity, and no good can come of that.'
'No, Battle Brother. It's not as we had thought. I have... I have been shown visions. I have seen into the mind of Jvan. It-'
'The Jvanic Entity, Battle Brother. Mention it as the Celestial Above did.'
'No, Battle Brother. You misunderstand me. Jvan is not the Entity. They are two separate things.' Mora's frown deepened and his tattoo blackened, and his fur also became dark.
'You may speak, Battle Brother, but see to it that you speak carefully and well. What do you mean?' Juras invited Mora to sit, and the two Victors descended and brought their knees together. 

There was much for them to discuss in the shade of their resting gods.

@Kho ...Could it be imagined as the paper on which the Codex is written? Paper is a lot like fabric. Right? Right??

Heartworm swallowing a piece of the fabric of reality is explicitly mentioned in this post, summarywards, where it consumes part of the underlying structure of existence to become more like the background of all that is, thus explaining a point of concealment. That's always been Heartworm's teleportation mechanic: literally carving up reality to make a wound it could move through.

(As an aside, it's also one of my most consistent long-term bits of character development. At first Heartworm had to laboriously chew through reality, but later it could carve holes using a tool. Eventually it could slice portals into existence quickly with its vehicle, and lately it's just been kicking reality so hard it rips like paper. An upcoming post is the first and only one in which Heartworm simply wills a wound in reality to open up. It's also been teleporting more as time goes on. So there's some subtle power progressions for y'all.)

The thing is that 'the fabric of reality' is a really common metaphor for 'the underlying structure of the existent universe' when it comes to describing both physics and metaphysical stuff. I'm sure most of us have used it here at some point, unthinking, to mean exactly that.

Unless the Fabric as you describe is something specifically other than that, then I imagine it's a Vowzrid phenomenon of the general concept. Heartworm might be interacting with a different layer of it somehow. It might simply not be attuned to the sentience, or there might be some mirroring effect in which its own weird AI soul reflects on the Fabric and makes it seem cold and lifeless from its perspective.@Antarctic Termite

I'm not entirely sure - I've said all I've really worked out about the Fabric. There's terminological stuff - like how moving through the Fabric should not technically be referred to as teleporting, and rather than reference to 'portals', it should be 'Whirlpool of Space and Time' (e.g. the Gate is a Whirlpool of Space and Time).

In the end, what Heartworm chews through has been, as you say, developed in a very particular way; that's your territory - you've lain all kinds of protections and whatnot to ensure that anyone who plays around there is at a complete disadvantage. The Fabric isn't that. Chiral Phi, for instance, wouldn't receive all existing data on someone passing through the Fabric (I think it only gets that for things entering the Submaterium? Or was it teleporting generally? I can't quite remember). It is even possible that someone passing through the Fabric can interact with the Gap without triggering Jvan's mindbells (perhaps that's how Vowzra got out of there without detection, it makes sense in retrospect).
The mirroring thing doesn't hold up in my mind - the Punisher, Juras, and Vowzra all interacted with the Fabric, and in all three cases the Fabric was fairly consistent.

Could it be that Jvanic and Vowzrid interaction have been with the same thing bit on different levels? Sure, but to me that's more or less synonymous with them being entirely different things - if the layer Heartworm and Jvan have been interacting with is a passive, malleable, unliving layer, then the layer Vowzra has been interacting with is active, resistant, alive - it recognises different characters and can even develop deeper feelings for some than others. These layers, if we go with that, are completely different and independent of each other. 
I have no issue with Heartworm, as it experiments and delves deeper into its passive Fabric of Reality, coming into contact with the conscious Fabric of Existence. I'm sure that would be a very interesting development.

What do others think? Are the Fabric of Existence and Heartworm's chaw one and the same, and the whole conscious universe thing just in Vowzie's wishful projections? Layers of the same thing? Two separate things altogether? Something else?

Edit: And how do other things fit in - the Mechanism of Change for instance, is that the interaction of Zephyrean beings with what Heartworm calls the Fabric of Reality and Vowzra the Fabric of Existence? Is Belvast's teleportation an interaction with something altogether different/ yet another layer/ just another different perception of the same thing?

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