Howdy, Stranger!
Categories
- 3.7K All Categories
- 3K The Midnight Age
- 757 Announce posts
- 125 Newbies
- 6 Class Guides
- 804 Harpy's Head Tavern
- 57 Echo Canyon
- 310 Self-Affirmations
- 163 Town Crier
- 135 The Exchange
- 167 Sparring Grounds
- Combat Guides
- 30 Combat Logs
- 188 Idea Box
- 9 Classleads
- 578 Roleplay Logs
- 107 Aetolia Development
- 5 The Void
- 744 Miscellaneous
- 9 Announcements
- 417 OOC Chat
- 217 Tech Talk
- 47 Scripts
Looking for more active discussion? Join our Discord at https://discord.gg/x2s7fY6
Story Time with Omei and Taiyang
HOOOOOOOOOOO BOY, another RP log. Keep it coming at me guys, I love strife and stress and all these big thoughts in the poor little monkey boy's head. As usual, descriptions first and then the log itself!
---Descriptions---
Omei:
She is an Immortal, ensconced within a Rajamala shell and not much taller than the typical mortal. She carries the suggestion of a mortal youthfulness despite Her undeniable power, and pale tigerlike stripes paint her slight frame. Strong, wiry muscle belies Her prowess as a huntress; swirling motes of light curl through the air about Her. Despite their muted, subdued quality, they seem to catch and burn bright in Her empty eye sockets: mere, twin pools of prismatic radiance which are an unmistakable tell of Her Divine nature. The hair upon Her head has been cropped inexorably short, leaving Her eldritch, hollow gaze unobstructed.
(left to stretch down to Her knees) : a purple silk loincloth
(slung over Her shoulder) : a bow wrought from chaos
(swarming upon Her brow) : a crown of moths
(looped about Her left wrist) : a collection of sculpted brass bangles
(slung across Her back) : a dhurive of many colors
(blazing throughout Her left arm) : a violet moth tattoo
(across Her shoulder) : a rainbow quiver of arrows and light
(obscuring Her face) : a twisted, eldritch mask
Taiyang:
He is a typical Human vampire with a bright shock of wavy hair in a messy, yet endearing, tangle on his head; coloured in ash blonde roots that brighten tremendously towards a golden yellow at their tips. Brilliantly green eyes gaze around with an air somewhere between mischief and excitement from above a slightly upturned nose. Thin lips seem pressed easily into a grin or a kind smile, with no hint of facial hair to be found anywhere near them. Incredibly pale, his skin is still defined with a layer of muscle that can be seen where his long arms are exposed by the barely-there sleeves of the silk-and-leather shirt he wears down to his waist, and the forest-green trousers that are cut off at the knee to allow him freedom of movement. Setting him apart from the crowd is a long tail poking out of the back of his pants from a small hole inexpertly cut into them just above his rear, the prehensile yellow-gold appendage often flicking around in his excitement or wrapping around a leg to avoid any unfortunate accidents. His bare feet drum against the ground in a restless, happy, and somewhat hyper tic, the rhythmic thudding much more impactful than a person of his stature should make. Stained deep, the dark brown and black of dried blood has set in around his fingertips and in specks along his wrist, though there is obvious attempts at cleaning it away in discoloured abrasions of scratched, shiny skin. Small strips of flesh have been peeled away from his hands, revealing bloody veins and tender muscle that already have attempted to heal over. Translucent strands of spiderweb periodically weave around his
form, empowering him with Iosyne's blessing. Eldritch violet light surrounds him - a blessing of
chaos and dreaming.
(covering down to the top of his biceps) : a Celestine leafy shirt sewn of leather and silk of ..
(cut off at the knee) : a Celestine pair of forest-green trousers
Lin:
She is a muscular Human of remarkable height, as tall as a draft horse, and in incredible physical fitness, with a dusky, kawhe-colored complexion. She is a hard-faced woman, her expression dour by default, and though she has a timeless charm, lines of age are in evidence around the corners of her eyes, or in her brow when she frowns. Her heavily-lashed eyes mismatch - the right features a golden iris and is unsurprising; the left has been replaced entirely by a black jewel, glittering like a pool of oil. She wears her black hair with the sides shaven off, the rest gathered into a bundle of myriad braids, long enough to tap the base of her spine. From the sides of her skull sprout not only a pair of curling ram's horns, but also long, knifelike ears, not unlike those of a Tsol'aa. The ropy, ebon-colored tail that depends from the base of her spine is as long as she is tall, and tipped with a brush of especially thick fur. Sparks of ember fall in her wake, revealing the blessing of Ethne.
(etched into her forehead) : a circular mark, half darkened
(emblazoned upon her hand) : a red tiger tattoo
(draped thicklyi around her) : the Emperor's tattered cloak
(resting against her heart) : a heavy quartz pendant on a gold chain
(encaging her horns) : warped and twisted filigree horn ornamentations
(glinting darkly from a middle finger) : a shadowy ring
(clattering musically with each step) : a scant loincloth of red and white beads
(thrust through her left nipple) : a carved bone piercing
(thrust through her right nipple) : a carved bone piercing
Painting:
Looking at first to have an exorbitant amount of of solid black space with only specks of colour as a border to a more colourful scene, closer inspection to this painting reveals that in the inky pitch are dozens of dark-shaded colours, blending together so subtly that they can be mistaken for a single great entity. Dark brown trunks and wisps of grey show the bodies of great trees, their viridian and saffron leaves dappling the jewel tones of indigo and sapphire that make up the sky behind them. In the centre of the painting, where colour is bright and visibility clear, sit two diminutive figures: one atop a throne and the other on the ground beneath. Atop Her throne, a Divine in the form of a Rajamala lounges with a medley of snacks and cups about her, claws effortlessly tearing from a haunch of meat and Her thick tail sweeping low towards the ground. Her eyes are little more than swirls of blended colour, awkwardly attempting to capture the prismatic radiance of Her eyes as She stares down at Her guest. There, a small Human with a bright gold tail opens his mouth in speech, hands raised as he gestures towards something in an eager display of happiness and feet only an inch away from knocking over his own snacks. Caught in the middle of conversation, strange pastel sworls and vivid sweeps of colour wind through the air nonsensically, shedding trace amounts of coloured light into the space surrounding the two.
---Log---
(Tells): Voice lilting on feathery wafts of air, Tenshyo tells you, "What's going through your mind, lad?"
Small flakes of white float through your field of vision here and there.
(Tells): You tell Tenshyo, "..." While there is no verbal response to your query, there is a strong feeling of turmoil and conflict; self-doubt and horrible, gut-wrenching sadness rising powerfully above all other feelings. "..."
(THINK:)
"I'm...I'm not bad. I'm good, and I'm nice, and people like me..." The affirmation is lost in the boy's mind amidst a storm of loathing and doubt that threatens to overhwelm the small piece of tranquility left. "I'm...I'm good, I am..."
Small flakes of white float through your field of vision here and there.
The light snow continues, lightly coating you with snowflakes.
Tekias has entered the area.
Tekias enters from the southeast, riding a scarred, pale warhorse.
Tekias gracefully hops off of a scarred, pale warhorse.
A scarred, pale warhorse begins to follow Tekias.
Tekias smiles at you.
You have emoted: Visibly shaking as he stares down at the water, Taiyang doesn't even have his rod out as he stands on the surface of the icy blue; not noticing your entrance.
"...I'm...I'm good...I'm not bad..." The thought remains quiet, almost nonexistent between the storm of hatred and doubt flowing through the boy's mind, threatening to destroy what little fragile tranquility remains.
Tekias comes up slowly behind you, looking down into the water beside you. "How many fish are you watching?" As she stands there, she pulls her striking, dark black long coat on, tugging it closed about her body.
Tekias just thought:
"You are good. You are not bad." A second thought sounds forth, comforting and reassuring in tone.
You have emoted: Taiyang stirs suddenly, as though just now recognising Tekias'' voice and offers a wan smile, weak and clearly disingenuous, "Oh, uh...I think I was at...13 or so. I don't really remember, I guess my mind was somewhere else."
Tekias nods her head slowly, looking to you. "Don't let Lord Dhar's followers get you down, Tai. Some people will just do what they can to tear you down, just to make them feel better. It never works, because they keep doing it."
(THINK)
There is no obvious sign that your thoughts were heard, but as the boy's words and thoughts still echo in your mind, you feel a stringent order placed over his mind - smothering and blanketing everything in favour of an eerie silence. "..."
You have emoted: "Oh, I'm not..." Taiyang shakes his head and says, "I am just sad for everyone else. Because I am nice, and good, and can make friends, but others...they are sad, and do not trust. So they cannot make friends, and they have to deal with all of that, and will never have a chance. They'll be angry, and that will just make things so much worse. And I'm sure that's gone on for...for hundreds of years, by now."
Tekias nods her head, coming up to you to wrap an arm around your shoulders. "It's alright to be sad for them, Tai, but...you have to accept that you can't help everyone. Especially if they don't want to be helped."
You have emoted: Taiyang appears smaller than life as his shoulders sag underneath your arms in acceptance of your words, staring down into the water as a morose, almost alien voice escapes his throat, "Y-yeah, I guess..."
(Tells): Voice lilting on feathery wafts of air, Tenshyo tells you, "You know I'm fine and glad to speak about all sorts of thoughts, manners, and issues lad."
Moths in manifold amber hues arise from the Morgun Forest in blazing susurration to hail the afternoon awakening of Omei, the Imago.
(Tells): You tell Tenshyo, "I didn't do anything wrong," The words are subdued, and quiet, audible over a strange fog that calms the discord and chaos that was there but moments ago, "...and I haven't had a chance to do anything big yet, but I...I have to be better than everyone else, and make...I don't...I don't know what to do."
Tekias rubs softly at your shoulder, just standing there with you, looking down into the water alongside. "If you want to stay here and watch the water, Tai, we can do that. Otherwise...I have ideas to get your mind off of this, if you like."
You have emoted: Taiyang's eyes trail up as he looks towards the distant amber hues, "I...I think that's where I need to be right now." With a distraction clearly in front of him, he seems much more lively, and almost back to his normal self, "And then I can fish, and be alone, and think my big thoughts."
Tekias Uymari says to you, "Are you sure you should be alone now, Tai? I can just...be here, quiet, if you want the company."
With a curious, almost real smile, you say to Tekias, "I am sure. Do you know how to get to where those lights came from, though? I'd be glad for some company on the way there, to see Miss Omei."
As he lifts up a painting in to his arms, you say, "I have a gift for Her, like I promised I'd give."
Tekias Uymari says to you, "They look like they came from the Morgun, so I can get you there. I just don't know where -in- the Morgun She is."
You say, "It's okay. Once I get there, I can wander around, and find Her. Or, just...think real loud, and I'm sure She'll find me."
Tekias nods her head at you.
Tekias Uymari says to you, "Come along then, Tai. I'll get you to the warmer forest."
You have emoted: Taiyang nods as he falls into line next to Tekias, hugging the painting close to his chest.
Tekias swiftly swings up onto a scarred, pale warhorse.
>>>Big zoomies away into the distance, ending up at NoT
Tekias points off towards the south.
You have emoted: Taiyang nods and then looks down into the forest, "Thank you for helping me, miss Tek. I'll...I'll find you later if I feel up to training."
Tekias Uymari says to you, "Morgun's that way. Good luck finding Her. And...if you do change your mind on the company or distraction, just call out, hmm?"
(THINK:)
"I am lucky, to have such a good friend," the same inner voice - muted and quiet, rises faintly above the fog.
Tekias gives you a peck on the cheek.
You have emoted: A soft smile finds its way across Taiyang's face as he tilts his head to the side, looking at nothing in particular.
You cease to follow Tekias Uymari.
>>>Quietly stepping into Morgun Forest and staying there
For the first time in quite a few minutes, there is energy and motion within the thick fog blanketing Taiyang's mind, and a loud inner voice asks, "Miss...Miss Omei? I know You hear everything, and I don't remember how to find You. Could...could You show me a path?"
You have emoted: Taiyang wanders aimlessly through the forest, eyes flicking from tree to tree as though looking for something familiar.
>>>Wandering around the forest, looking for anything familiar from the last time I was there, ending up stepping in and then out of the Seer's Wood when a SINGLE SECOND LATER
(Tells): The Divine voice of Omei, the Imago echoes in your head, "Know you of the Seer's Wood?"
You have emoted: Taiyang nods his head emphatically, looking back the way he had just explored.
"I think so, Miss Omei. I will keep looking, until I find You. I brought that gift I promised, to thank You." There is a small amount of yellow and gold rising in the fog, feeling so similar to a smile that it could almost be seen upon his otherwise expressionless face.
>>>Wandering through Seer's Wood until...
--- Approaching a grand pyramid -32:-2:1 ---
Glimmering hints of grayish daylight are all that pierce through the darkening clouds above. To the north is a large sandstone pyramid, four-sided and built with individual blocks like stairs that one could climb if only tall enough. The river that flows around the temple is clear and clean, full of fish and plant life that blooms brightly at night. The grass underfoot grows red in color sprinkled with flowers in blues, greens, and purples. A large tree grows to the southwest, gnarled and twisted, its leaves sprinkled all over the ground below it. An enormous sandstone obelisk circles slowly in the air here, its form covered in intricate glowing runes.
You see exits leading north, southeast, and southwest.
You have emoted: Taiyang stops in his tracks as the pyramid comes into view, and his mouth opens in a soft 'o', nearly dropping the painting clutched in his arms before he carefully clutches it back to his chest and clamps his mouth shut tight. "That...is very big."
(THINK:)
"Maybe at the top?" The fog slowly fades as it is replaced with feelings of genuine curiosity, what dark feelings it hid moments ago seemingly lost in the power of these new thoughts.
>>>Quick climbing through the pyramid
Before a skyward-spanning staircase.
Glimmering hints of grayish daylight are all that pierce through the darkening clouds above. You stand upon a platform at the top of the monolithic temple that offers quite the view of the spanning surroundings of the ethereal forest in the distance. Even from here the myriad of colors that make up the foliage is striking. Most awe inspiring of all is the series of steps before you that start just off the northernmost ledge of the platform; these steps, made up of some swirling violet essence that solidifies when touched, swirl upwards almost endlessly. Their apex is nestled high above the clouds in a way that looks from this point only like a small blot in the sky.
You see exits leading up and down.
You have emoted: Taiyang's breath deepens slightly as he continues up the staircase, staring upwards as though certain of his path despite the ache creeping into his ankles at the repetitive motion.
(Omei's throne room)
Dim, lazy sunset fights to break through the veil of black clouds drifting overhead. You stand upon a platform of sandstone-hued material that floats high up here in the clouds, its surface filled with podiums of all different heights. Placed upon each of these podiums are different statues in bronze of the strange animals that roam the forest outside. In the center of the room is a clearing that sits the throne of the Imago, and several feet in front of that lies a collection of pillows in pure white. From several places out of the way are floating braziers that burn incense, the strong scent of sandalwood and something else, something foreign, filling the room. A glowing iridescence sparkles within the air. The Imago's many-hued throne stands here, replete with sundry colors, shapes, and symbols. A brass telescope is here, angled towards the sky. A violet water lily candleholder of glass is here on the ground. Candles that flicker and glow with ethereal purple-tinged flames have been placed sporadically across the spanning platform before you.
You see a single exit leading down.
(RAINBOW)
The platform's candles flare in brilliant, manifold hues as the Imago eases Herself into Her throne, soon becalming themselves and their light once more.
Omei takes a long drag from a lit chaotic rainbow cigarette of vivid archers.
Omei exhales a white cloud of smoke, redolent with pungent scents.
You have emoted: Taiyang's head turns around as he looks about and turns in a wide circle, finally stopping when he notices the throne and offering a small smile that sends tendrils of soft gold curlicuing from his head into the air just surrounding him. "Miss Omei," he says with a soft, happy voice, "It is nice to see You again."
The bitter and evocative fragrance of myrrh carries through the air as the convoluted carvings upon a black pillar candle gradually melt into an abstract mass.
"Hello, tailed one," Omei replies. Despite Her mask being naught more but a blank, black field, a manifold of strange, inverse color plays across it - the suggestion of a fond smile, accompanied by an effulgent glow where eyes ought to lie. "It is good to perceive you likewise." Strange, pungent smoke coils from beneath Her mask's chin. "Come nearer," She bids, one long claw gesturing to a pillow. "Sit. Lie. You have many thoughts."
You have emoted: Taiyang steps closer towards the throne quickly, and then blinks before seeming to remember and bright green joins the soft gold as he says, "Oh! I do not want to forget, I brought this for You! How I remember our very first meeting. I admit I didn't paint it myself, Empress Rebra helped me, because she's..." He smiles, and a tinge of dark indigo taints the soft gold as he continues, "...she's very nice." He quietly places the painting on the ground where it is fully visible, and then shuffles forward before sitting down and crossing one leg over the other, leaving a trail of indigo-touched gold as he moves.
You drop a painting of Omei and Taiyang.
Your pose is now set as:
Sitting near to the throne, Taiyang smiles a sad, soft smile.
Omei peers closer. She sets down Her mug, and - claw freed - at once is wielding a blazing, white orb of light in Her hand. She holds it nearer to the painting and cranes forward, leaning from Her throne to get a better look. The mention of the Consanguine Empress inspires initial skepticism; but moment by moment, Her lasting silence belies the painting's deeper impression upon Her, and She brings Her other hand - cigarette and all - to Her mouth, utterly forgetting to draw from it for some time.
At last, inadequately, Omei, the Imago says, "It is magnificent artwork."
Lin arrives from the down.
You have emoted: "She asked if I wanted to," Taiyang says, the story tinged with a veil of persimmon smoke, "And I didn't want to be mean and draw one of my bad drawings, when You had been so nice. So she asked me everything I could remember, and I told her what I saw, and what I felt, and...she made that."
Omei takes a long drag from a lit chaotic rainbow cigarette of vivid archers.
Omei exhales a white cloud of smoke, redolent with pungent scents.
Slowly, an immense, three-eyed rojalli's eyes each blink one by one.
Clearing Her throat, Omei, the Imago says to you, "I- I am touched beyond mortal words, tailed one. It is a glory of art."
Lin mounts the steps, appearing first as a set of horns wrapped in twisted metal, then ramifying as a statuesque, musclebound creature, in the company of an enormous rojalli. Her face is stony. "What is this," she hisses, glancing accusatorily at you, as if she'd just caught you red-handed desecrating a work of art.
Omei turns toward Lin slowly, Her masked face impassive. She raises a clawed hand, palm flat, the emberous point of Her cigarette burning like a fiery eye. "Heel, Rojalli. The Consanguine is my guest."
You have emoted: The gold that hangs around Taiyang's head s he stairs at Omei and hears Her words is interrupted by bright pink as he turns and sees Lin, wincing and attempting to look small as he stares at her.
Visibly Lin bristles, stopped in her tracks, without need for Divine mesmerism or puissant force to hold her at bay. Her face flits back and forth between two dominant expressions: adoration and pleading for Omei, and a sort of desperate, unlovely hostility for you. "I don't understand," she growls, keeping far away.
An immense, three-eyed rojalli performs the same head movements, looking at Omei or you in sync.
You have emoted: Taiyang stares down at his hands, picking at open wounds there where strips of bloodied flesh have been peeled away, uncomfortably puce wisps colouring the air near his temples as he tries his best to not look overly offencive.
"I know," Omei murmurs, a note of sympathy in Her tone. She sets Her head upon one folded claw, putting the other - and its rainbow cigarette - to Her masked lips. She draws, exhales. Smoke curls upward in ascending spirals. "But neither does he. He has been upended." A sympathetic, rose-hued glance spills toward you, motes gleaming from Her empty eyes. "You know what it is to be upended, Rojalli."
Each word from the Goddess's lips falls upon attentive ears, but Lin has eyes only for you. Her inhuman face would be familiar to anyone who's raised a warhound or a vakmut for killing sport - like she's waiting for an order to kill. It takes a while for the words to truly penetrate her cortex, to absorb.
"I do," Lin admits quietly, lowering her head, glancing at the floor.
You have emoted: "I am sorry," Taiyang's voice is quiet when he speaks, and he looks up at Lin as though searching for something in her face that he does not seem to find. "I...I did not mean to be a bother, I just wanted to make sure I repaid the kindness." He exhales almost imperceptibly before turning his gaze away from Lin to look back to Omei, to Whom he says, "If I will make people upset, Miss Omei, I can come back another time. I do not want to be mean to Your followers."
(THINK:)
"...after all, that is the nice thing to do. And I am not bad, or mean, I am nice." There is a ripple through what little fog remains in the boy's mind, like a beast threatening to breach through sodden, swampy ground and face the surface with all the threat it may possess.
"You do," Omei agrees - but then She turns to you. "No," She cuts in, Her tone low, decisive. She holds up a clawed hand. "Stay." Then Her mask turns, focused toward Lin - motes of warrish red creep through Her expression. "He is my guest," She repeats calmly. "I have judged his presence acceptable, and I wish to hear his mind. You will control yourself, you will leave, or I will teach you manners. The choice is yours, Rojalli Mine."
Eldritch violet fire coils gently around the Goddess' claws, the brass bangles about Her wrist catching its many-eyed reflections.
Lin just thought:
[She is stricken by the memory of the other congregants, their petty defensiveness, their insistence on perceiving every word as a slight.].
"I will control myself," Lin pledges, proving obedient to a fault, gazing at some indeterminate point around Omei's feet. "I will... disturb You nor your guest any longer. If I could but have Your ear, when You are not so busy." Her tail snaps about in agitation.
(THINK:)
Every thought that passes through Lin's mind is only barely perceived by Taiyang's own, manifesting as small scents that could easily be coming from the surrounding forest - now approaching as a gentle honeysuckle that is tainted by soured elderberry.
"Of course," Omei murmurs lowly, cyanic calm muting the scarlet notes to low, dusky purple. Her masked head bows forward. "I shall welcome it then, Rojalli. Soon. You have My word."
An immense, three-eyed rojalli shudders epileptically as his musculature slithers beneath his hide.
Lin bows low, then turns and leaves the way she came, as schooled as a trained martial artist.
Lin just thought:
[She does not at all hide her thoughts; they radiate from her like hearthheat. Her heart is stained with jealousy, and it expresses itself in the forefront of her mind.].
You have emoted: Taiyang's silence lengthens as he stares awkwardly back down at his hands; finally looking up at the departure of the woman and saying, almost to himself, "I...I hope she is not upset," he says - nose flaring slightly with each footstep that trails down the steps. Something like bitter anise hangs in the air, and he frowns as he whispers, "...or that she will be glad when she comes back." He turns his head and shakes it a moment later, sighing as though attempting to break out of a mood.
(THINK:)
Fog pours over the boy's mind as though ordered to do so, attempting to contain the violent squall of emotions threatening to break free with only limited success as it does not succumb as easily as it should, raging against the chains of somnolent thought rushing over its prison.
Omei's masked gaze trails down the stair after Lin. At length, She sighs - lifts Her cigarette - and takes a long draw that gusts from Her like a rainbow gale. "It is nothing," She remarks tiredly. "Nothing that cannot be amended given time and care. She is not used to Me entertaining Consanguine guests." She chuckles, a burgundy mist coiling forth to fog the air. "Calm, child. Breathe. Smell the sandalwood? Myrrh? What of the wind from the wood below?"
You have emoted: Though it takes a few seconds, almost as though Your words do not register immediately, Taiyang finally inhales through his nostrils and closes his eyes to focus. "...people do not like my kind. From the things I've heard, I can't blame them." His woods are a gloomy violet, tinged with tips of deep obsidian. Yet in the peace of the exhaled fog and the ambiance of the forest, gold slowly manages to peek through the cloud hanging heavy about his head as he sits statuesque for several long minutes. "It...it is very nice, Miss Omei. Quiet, and away from everything that wants to be loud and angry and...awful."
"Why do I think I dwell in the Morgun, darkest and most dangerous of woods?" Omei replies, a smiling silver crescent looping across the midnight of Her mask. Starlike motes glitter in its wake, crystalline hums sounding low from their effulgence. "It keeps loud, stupid people and their loud stupid thoughts out of Mine!" Her laugh, a violet cackle, follows. She settles, fogged by mist and smoke.
You have emoted: Brilliant streaks of sunny gold pierce the fog around Taiyang in brilliant streaks that illuminate their surroundings, his laugh gaily ringing through the air as the mist in his mind fades away ever-so slightly and the turmoil seethes less violently, "...You are very smart. In the city, it gets very loud, and angry, so I like to sit in the desert." He smiles and sunrise orange follows each word, "The ponies like to run through, and kick up sand. I pick out a few grains, and watch where they fall, and then see which can settle to the bottom of the dune first. It is...very relaxing, and helps me to not think about scary things."
Cyanic vines glow up from Omei's arm, and She sends them timorously forth to test the air; where they drift against your sunny gold, silver-white shimmers awaken. "Sand is wonderful for that sort of thing," She considers. Hourglasses, half-remembered, spin about Her; ever-turning, ever-whispering, all the secrets of time trapped within their crystalline confines. "As is quiet. I walk these woods, when I am not walking the Chaos that is Mine."
Omei, the Imago says to you, "Real enough to keep Me safe - but unreal enough that I do not feel distant from My domain."
You have emoted: "It does feel like I am...in another world." Taiyang says, nodding in agreement as he stares up at the colours coiling through the air and sending further periwinkle and robin's egg up to join them, wonder and gentle curiosity in his voice, "Everything that seemed so horrible and important just an hour or so ago...it feels like it is something I read in a story, here." The sounds of covers closing gently against thick pages echoes the final syllable.
Omei laughs aloud, delighted by your comparison. "And you have seen barely anything yet," She retorts, absinthe-hued amusement bubbling yellow-green in the air. The color makes Her remember Her mug, and She lifts it to take a lazy swig of lemonade. "I'm curious," She comments, after swallowing - a flash of Her teeth, before Her mask slips back into place. "Can you tell Me your story?"
You have emoted: "I can," Taiyang nods in agreement, soft yellow chasing gold as he appends, "If You do not mind that it is missing pieces. There are...half-memories, from before I was taken as a slave. Things I can barely remember, that are private and come to me when I am my happiest, and struggle to hold for more than a few seconds."
"I understand," Omei whispers, Her voice catching a moment - as though your description has proven some difficult reminder of something, until then, unconsidered by the Goddess. "In whichever form you wish. You are not lost for modes of expression. I hope that eases you."
You have emoted: Taiyang exhales softly, and closes his eyes, "...I think, a long time ago...someone cared about me." There is a soft feeling that hangs heavy in the air, the sound like the rustling of a butterfly's wing against a leaf, feeling soft against the wide flat of the outer thumb. "...but...someone else did not like me." A loud crash, a distant cry, and dark greys and charcoal stain the air as the muted thuds of flesh impacting flesh ring out from the roots of nearby trees. "...and I think they sold me, because of that other person. I woke up in a cell, and escaped here...where I was found by the people of Bloodloch."
Low, blue-purple motes, mournful and oceanic, course through the air; the wind's rush becomes something like water, a soothing murmur of low illumination.
Omei carefully lights a black, myrrh-scented pillar candle.
Omei puts a lit black, myrrh-scented pillar candle into a violet water lily candleholder of glass.
Straightening from Her candleholder, Omei sinks into a fully reposed position, head set upon Her outstretched arm. She, too, is muted - violet and soft, to complement the greys.
Omei, the Imago asks you, "They took you in?"
You have emoted: The coppery scent of blood hangs heavy with mud and grit, boiled ozone from lava flows and the scuttling of rats and sweeping of silk against stone fill the space near Taiyang as he continues his story, "...Not at first. They ignored me, and just let me...exist, to see if I would be food or if I would be friend. I was no one, just a kid with a broken tail and a hungry belly. I flung myself into my lessons, and...there was a sense of purpose that I fell in love with. Or, re-discovered my love for?" The tang of city streets fade away, replaced with the musty scent of a library full of boots, with liquid wax bubbling and the gentle warmth of candlelight casting dancing shadows nearby. Orange trails the boy's words, and he continues, "That's when the Empress found me, half-starved but sitting in a pile of books almost as tall as I am sitting."
Indigo slowly grows toward azure, then cyan; open and clear once more, a ready parallel to your orange and that of the candle. Omei relights Her cigarette in a brief, eldritch blaze of violet; smokes, exhales, in myriad rainbows and scents; and Her mask emits a soft, unbidden, "Aw." A silvery outline appears: a crude, sketchlike seeming of that first encounter, the books whispering their every secret to the moonwrit boy.
You have emoted: "She looked at me, in nothing more than a too-big coat of scaled armour and a ratty coat I found on the ground, and..." The sweet scents of flowers permeate the air and there is a sense of wonder that is familiar: that of a young boy looking up to a powerful woman extending a hand of kindness with awe and untold trust. "...she took me in. She brought me to her shop, and let me eat until I could not eat anything else. Then she had me stand very still, and took measurements, and made these very same clothes." The green about Taiyang's clothing seems to dance and shift with the echo of shears and thread piecing them together, and he smiles as he cants his head upwards and continues, "...then, she took me to Esterport, and she pulled what seemed like more money than could ever exist in the world from her purse, and picked up pieces of something I still do not fully understand, and helped me affix it to my tail. And when she pinched the last piece, there was a loud crack, and..." Sharp, searing pain as though a limb were shoved back into socket, quickly replaced with cool comfort and sweet relief that swims with gentle, tickling pinks, "...my tail wasn't broken, not any more."
"She made you yourself again," Omei whispers, Her head bowing in reverence - in utter comprehension. Rosy, resplendent rays coil from Her empty eyes, flowering and blooming amidst the green. Soon your pink frames yet more ethereal blooms, dancing and swaying like half-living, half-existent moths. "What were those first moments like, after you had regained yourself?" She cranes forward, fascinated. "If you had to put color, sound, to it."
You have emoted: Taiyang's mouth falls shut, and he stays quiet for some time - his thoughts swirling around each other as he examines the memory very carefully, turning it over and over in his mind as colours clash against each other and smells flit back and forth too quickly to linger. Two slow minutes pass, his eyes flickering behind closed lids until he finally whispers, "...like a stream, that was dammed over by beavers. On the one side, the river is whole, yet the river is split in two, and on the other...there is just a shadow. A pained memory of what was once there." The phantom pains of a tail that is unresponsive, trodden upon, tender at even the slightest touch is prominent, and then suddenly the clearing springs to life in golds and crimsons, sweet and tender as he says, "And then a rain comes, and the river breaks the dam. It is full, and whole, and...and...so..." The word that escapes his mouth spills the very same colour into the air, spiralling out, "...rainbow." The tender sensation of pastries fresh out of the oven, a soft summer rain against the skin, a river rushing around the ankles; feelings of bliss and euphoria pass over each other and build into a crescendo as he relives the sensation wholly, of a limb restored as it reached up and brushed against his cheek with downy softness.
(RAINBOW)
Rainbow, rainbow, riotous and resplendent - a glorious chorus, writ chromatic and splendid; softness, sweetly spiraling through the smoke and thus the throne and its ethereal environs. All the air is a mirror for the memory of mending.
Eldritch violet follows in the rainbow's wake, darting from beneath the Goddess' mask.
"When I first became, transformed from mere shell to Goddess... it was much as you describe your own restoration."
You have emoted: Taiyang's eyes open to the spray of colours and gentle greens colour the air near him as he watches with abject fascination and curiosity.
"Rainbow," curls from beneath the mask, a dusky, shadowed mirror of full resplendence. "Rainbow, as there had never been and could not be before. I had been constrained, prior. Incomplete. My entire existence was one, gargantuan... liminal frustration."
(THINK:)
"A whole new set of rules, an ability to be like people like me can't even hope to be," the boy thinks - almost subconsciously noting as his attention remains entirely upon the Goddess before him.
The smoke that ebbs from beneath the mask is low, dreamy violet, scattering night's pale glow across Her in ethereal, soft, pink-and-blue shimmers.
"We never stop becoming. You know that, yes?"
You have emoted: "I think so," Taiyang says quietly. "Even people who are very old and smart like mister Tenshyo can learn, and experience new things. Things that young people, and new eyes, can see." He looks up and, genuine curiosity colouring the air a sweet vermillion, "Do...do You become more still, Miss Omei? It is hard to imagine there is anything You and the other gods cannot do."
A bluish, contemplative cast to the purple, now; a violet coiling toward nearby shades of indigo, a ready match for the verging vermilion.
"I do, as well. It is mortal of Me."
You have emoted: Taiyang blinks at that, and though confusion is written on his face, it disappears almost as quickly as it came with a soft smile replacing it to spill more gentle golds into the air.
"My... embodiment in My present shell happened more slowly than is usual for My Siblings," Her ethereal tones add. "Liminal for a long, long while, never quite enough essence to tip across - to shrive off My lingering mortalities as a moth does its cradle-cocoon."
You have emoted: "...how did You feel, Miss Omei?" Taiyang asks, unfolding his legs only to hug them close to his chest and rest his chin upon his knees. "I am sure that You must have felt something, knowing that You were different from Them."
Silver lances bright and brilliant through the air - a keen, cruel sharpness that leaves Her mask bereft and empty. The illumination melts away with a thousand small, cracking noises like shattering crystals; falling, drifting, like snow, a bitter ashen scent carried in its wake.
You have emoted: Sympathy writes itself quickly across Taiyang's face as tears spring unbidden to water his eyes, looking utterly crestfallen at the colours and scent fills the air, "...I...I am sorry, I should not have asked," he offers, apology marked by the spilling of tears over an eyelid to trail down his cheek and sending deep, sapphirine tones dancing among the crystals.
"Even before this shell of Mine, I have differed." There is a long, tense silence, the air itself holding its breath; the smoke hardly moves, hinged upon Her hidden maw. "I have differed in ways that set Me at distance, but which make Me capable of My work."
Indigo, indigo, a world of dancing, low-lit indigo, salt and brine coiling within its grieving depths.
You have emoted: Taiyang reaches up, and wipes away the tears with the heel of his palm, opening his mouth as though to speak before closing it once more. He takes a moment to think carefully before he says, "I...wish that You did not have to feel bad. I know what You mean, about...being different. Like I told You last time." His voice is bittersweet, burnt-orange timidly coiling from his mouth in curlicues that trail skyward, "...but I am very happy that You are the way You are, because You are very kind. And while I don't know much about Your work, I can't imagine that any of Yours would wish that You did not do as You do."
(THINK:)
"I think that made sense." It is a light laugh, internal so as not to seem disrespectful, despite knowing full well that it is a thought that can be heard. "Hearing that You are different, makes me think that it is even more okay that I am so different."
"I am necessary."
Bitter, cyanic pride; in that much, at least.
"I will always be necessary."
With another, soft-gold smile, you say, "And You are loved. By many people, both who follow You and who cannot. And You are respected, and liked very dearly, by those only fortunate enough to have met You and his own friends. It is a little bit...mortal, yes, but I hope You can feel those good things. You deserve to, I think."
Motes of rose arise and turn and dance; forming the strange, distant image of the Rojalli, and then other congregants; some perhaps recognizable, but many others not. Autumnal, sweeping hues frame them, low red to bright effulgent yellow, capturing their brilliance and vim and movement.
"In My many epochs, I have forgotten more than scores upon scores of mortals shall ever be capable of learning."
A pause; silver caught against low purple.
"But I shall not easily forget the love My chosen bear Me. It has led Me back, placed Me upon My throne, and inspired Me to become; just as I inspire them in turn."
You have emoted: The gentle smile upon Taiyang's face breaks into a beam that sprays brilliant gold around his head like a halo, exuberant joy in his face at those words. "I think You are right," he agrees, tail coiling behind him as he voices the feeling.
Omei takes a long drag from a lit chaotic rainbow cigarette of vivid archers.
Omei exhales a white cloud of smoke, redolent with pungent scents.
The scent of the cigarette seems to ground Omei once more - colorful and ethereal no more, She emerges from the cloud of smoke, and the black expanse of Her mask considers you. She sits up, stretching with a lazy grunt.
Curiously, Omei, the Imago asks you, "Is there anything else you'd like Me to perceive, tailed one?"
You have emoted: Taiyang's beam returns to its natural smile, and his legs fall to either side as he crosses his ankles. "I...I do not think so, Miss Omei. I am very glad that You have shared with me, and let me share with You. I will not forget it, or let my friends forget. It is how I will make things better, slowly."
"It is time I carried on," Omei answers - a rueful note in the admission. Her edges have begun to blur, moth's wings fighting to tear free of Her substance. She snubs Her cigarette upon the throne, a thin coil of rosy smoke licking upward from its stifled ember-end. "Carry My blessing back to Bloodloch; find silence and resplendence, should you need them."
Almost in afterthought, Omei, the Imago says, "...and bring Me another artwork soon."
You have emoted: A soft smile finds its way across Taiyang's face as he tilts his head to the side, looking at nothing in particular.
Omei, the Imago has bestowed a divine blessing upon you. It will last for 3 days.
Nodding his head, you say, "I will do my best, I promise."
A silver smile radiating from Her mask, Omei, the Imago says to you, "You needn't promise. I know you will."
You have emoted: Taiyang slowly climbs up to his feet and turns towards the stairs, saying, "Thank You, very much." He quietly makes his way along on the balls of his feet, pausing at the top of the stairs and looking over his shoulder with a soft smile that radiates soft gold.
---Fin---
---Descriptions---
Omei:
She is an Immortal, ensconced within a Rajamala shell and not much taller than the typical mortal. She carries the suggestion of a mortal youthfulness despite Her undeniable power, and pale tigerlike stripes paint her slight frame. Strong, wiry muscle belies Her prowess as a huntress; swirling motes of light curl through the air about Her. Despite their muted, subdued quality, they seem to catch and burn bright in Her empty eye sockets: mere, twin pools of prismatic radiance which are an unmistakable tell of Her Divine nature. The hair upon Her head has been cropped inexorably short, leaving Her eldritch, hollow gaze unobstructed.
(left to stretch down to Her knees) : a purple silk loincloth
(slung over Her shoulder) : a bow wrought from chaos
(swarming upon Her brow) : a crown of moths
(looped about Her left wrist) : a collection of sculpted brass bangles
(slung across Her back) : a dhurive of many colors
(blazing throughout Her left arm) : a violet moth tattoo
(across Her shoulder) : a rainbow quiver of arrows and light
(obscuring Her face) : a twisted, eldritch mask
Taiyang:
He is a typical Human vampire with a bright shock of wavy hair in a messy, yet endearing, tangle on his head; coloured in ash blonde roots that brighten tremendously towards a golden yellow at their tips. Brilliantly green eyes gaze around with an air somewhere between mischief and excitement from above a slightly upturned nose. Thin lips seem pressed easily into a grin or a kind smile, with no hint of facial hair to be found anywhere near them. Incredibly pale, his skin is still defined with a layer of muscle that can be seen where his long arms are exposed by the barely-there sleeves of the silk-and-leather shirt he wears down to his waist, and the forest-green trousers that are cut off at the knee to allow him freedom of movement. Setting him apart from the crowd is a long tail poking out of the back of his pants from a small hole inexpertly cut into them just above his rear, the prehensile yellow-gold appendage often flicking around in his excitement or wrapping around a leg to avoid any unfortunate accidents. His bare feet drum against the ground in a restless, happy, and somewhat hyper tic, the rhythmic thudding much more impactful than a person of his stature should make. Stained deep, the dark brown and black of dried blood has set in around his fingertips and in specks along his wrist, though there is obvious attempts at cleaning it away in discoloured abrasions of scratched, shiny skin. Small strips of flesh have been peeled away from his hands, revealing bloody veins and tender muscle that already have attempted to heal over. Translucent strands of spiderweb periodically weave around his
form, empowering him with Iosyne's blessing. Eldritch violet light surrounds him - a blessing of
chaos and dreaming.
(covering down to the top of his biceps) : a Celestine leafy shirt sewn of leather and silk of ..
(cut off at the knee) : a Celestine pair of forest-green trousers
Lin:
She is a muscular Human of remarkable height, as tall as a draft horse, and in incredible physical fitness, with a dusky, kawhe-colored complexion. She is a hard-faced woman, her expression dour by default, and though she has a timeless charm, lines of age are in evidence around the corners of her eyes, or in her brow when she frowns. Her heavily-lashed eyes mismatch - the right features a golden iris and is unsurprising; the left has been replaced entirely by a black jewel, glittering like a pool of oil. She wears her black hair with the sides shaven off, the rest gathered into a bundle of myriad braids, long enough to tap the base of her spine. From the sides of her skull sprout not only a pair of curling ram's horns, but also long, knifelike ears, not unlike those of a Tsol'aa. The ropy, ebon-colored tail that depends from the base of her spine is as long as she is tall, and tipped with a brush of especially thick fur. Sparks of ember fall in her wake, revealing the blessing of Ethne.
(etched into her forehead) : a circular mark, half darkened
(emblazoned upon her hand) : a red tiger tattoo
(draped thicklyi around her) : the Emperor's tattered cloak
(resting against her heart) : a heavy quartz pendant on a gold chain
(encaging her horns) : warped and twisted filigree horn ornamentations
(glinting darkly from a middle finger) : a shadowy ring
(clattering musically with each step) : a scant loincloth of red and white beads
(thrust through her left nipple) : a carved bone piercing
(thrust through her right nipple) : a carved bone piercing
Painting:
Looking at first to have an exorbitant amount of of solid black space with only specks of colour as a border to a more colourful scene, closer inspection to this painting reveals that in the inky pitch are dozens of dark-shaded colours, blending together so subtly that they can be mistaken for a single great entity. Dark brown trunks and wisps of grey show the bodies of great trees, their viridian and saffron leaves dappling the jewel tones of indigo and sapphire that make up the sky behind them. In the centre of the painting, where colour is bright and visibility clear, sit two diminutive figures: one atop a throne and the other on the ground beneath. Atop Her throne, a Divine in the form of a Rajamala lounges with a medley of snacks and cups about her, claws effortlessly tearing from a haunch of meat and Her thick tail sweeping low towards the ground. Her eyes are little more than swirls of blended colour, awkwardly attempting to capture the prismatic radiance of Her eyes as She stares down at Her guest. There, a small Human with a bright gold tail opens his mouth in speech, hands raised as he gestures towards something in an eager display of happiness and feet only an inch away from knocking over his own snacks. Caught in the middle of conversation, strange pastel sworls and vivid sweeps of colour wind through the air nonsensically, shedding trace amounts of coloured light into the space surrounding the two.
---Log---
(Tells): Voice lilting on feathery wafts of air, Tenshyo tells you, "What's going through your mind, lad?"
Small flakes of white float through your field of vision here and there.
(Tells): You tell Tenshyo, "..." While there is no verbal response to your query, there is a strong feeling of turmoil and conflict; self-doubt and horrible, gut-wrenching sadness rising powerfully above all other feelings. "..."
(THINK:)
"I'm...I'm not bad. I'm good, and I'm nice, and people like me..." The affirmation is lost in the boy's mind amidst a storm of loathing and doubt that threatens to overhwelm the small piece of tranquility left. "I'm...I'm good, I am..."
Small flakes of white float through your field of vision here and there.
The light snow continues, lightly coating you with snowflakes.
Tekias has entered the area.
Tekias enters from the southeast, riding a scarred, pale warhorse.
Tekias gracefully hops off of a scarred, pale warhorse.
A scarred, pale warhorse begins to follow Tekias.
Tekias smiles at you.
You have emoted: Visibly shaking as he stares down at the water, Taiyang doesn't even have his rod out as he stands on the surface of the icy blue; not noticing your entrance.
"...I'm...I'm good...I'm not bad..." The thought remains quiet, almost nonexistent between the storm of hatred and doubt flowing through the boy's mind, threatening to destroy what little fragile tranquility remains.
Tekias comes up slowly behind you, looking down into the water beside you. "How many fish are you watching?" As she stands there, she pulls her striking, dark black long coat on, tugging it closed about her body.
Tekias just thought:
"You are good. You are not bad." A second thought sounds forth, comforting and reassuring in tone.
You have emoted: Taiyang stirs suddenly, as though just now recognising Tekias'' voice and offers a wan smile, weak and clearly disingenuous, "Oh, uh...I think I was at...13 or so. I don't really remember, I guess my mind was somewhere else."
Tekias nods her head slowly, looking to you. "Don't let Lord Dhar's followers get you down, Tai. Some people will just do what they can to tear you down, just to make them feel better. It never works, because they keep doing it."
(THINK)
There is no obvious sign that your thoughts were heard, but as the boy's words and thoughts still echo in your mind, you feel a stringent order placed over his mind - smothering and blanketing everything in favour of an eerie silence. "..."
You have emoted: "Oh, I'm not..." Taiyang shakes his head and says, "I am just sad for everyone else. Because I am nice, and good, and can make friends, but others...they are sad, and do not trust. So they cannot make friends, and they have to deal with all of that, and will never have a chance. They'll be angry, and that will just make things so much worse. And I'm sure that's gone on for...for hundreds of years, by now."
Tekias nods her head, coming up to you to wrap an arm around your shoulders. "It's alright to be sad for them, Tai, but...you have to accept that you can't help everyone. Especially if they don't want to be helped."
You have emoted: Taiyang appears smaller than life as his shoulders sag underneath your arms in acceptance of your words, staring down into the water as a morose, almost alien voice escapes his throat, "Y-yeah, I guess..."
(Tells): Voice lilting on feathery wafts of air, Tenshyo tells you, "You know I'm fine and glad to speak about all sorts of thoughts, manners, and issues lad."
Moths in manifold amber hues arise from the Morgun Forest in blazing susurration to hail the afternoon awakening of Omei, the Imago.
(Tells): You tell Tenshyo, "I didn't do anything wrong," The words are subdued, and quiet, audible over a strange fog that calms the discord and chaos that was there but moments ago, "...and I haven't had a chance to do anything big yet, but I...I have to be better than everyone else, and make...I don't...I don't know what to do."
Tekias rubs softly at your shoulder, just standing there with you, looking down into the water alongside. "If you want to stay here and watch the water, Tai, we can do that. Otherwise...I have ideas to get your mind off of this, if you like."
You have emoted: Taiyang's eyes trail up as he looks towards the distant amber hues, "I...I think that's where I need to be right now." With a distraction clearly in front of him, he seems much more lively, and almost back to his normal self, "And then I can fish, and be alone, and think my big thoughts."
Tekias Uymari says to you, "Are you sure you should be alone now, Tai? I can just...be here, quiet, if you want the company."
With a curious, almost real smile, you say to Tekias, "I am sure. Do you know how to get to where those lights came from, though? I'd be glad for some company on the way there, to see Miss Omei."
As he lifts up a painting in to his arms, you say, "I have a gift for Her, like I promised I'd give."
Tekias Uymari says to you, "They look like they came from the Morgun, so I can get you there. I just don't know where -in- the Morgun She is."
You say, "It's okay. Once I get there, I can wander around, and find Her. Or, just...think real loud, and I'm sure She'll find me."
Tekias nods her head at you.
Tekias Uymari says to you, "Come along then, Tai. I'll get you to the warmer forest."
You have emoted: Taiyang nods as he falls into line next to Tekias, hugging the painting close to his chest.
Tekias swiftly swings up onto a scarred, pale warhorse.
>>>Big zoomies away into the distance, ending up at NoT
Tekias points off towards the south.
You have emoted: Taiyang nods and then looks down into the forest, "Thank you for helping me, miss Tek. I'll...I'll find you later if I feel up to training."
Tekias Uymari says to you, "Morgun's that way. Good luck finding Her. And...if you do change your mind on the company or distraction, just call out, hmm?"
(THINK:)
"I am lucky, to have such a good friend," the same inner voice - muted and quiet, rises faintly above the fog.
Tekias gives you a peck on the cheek.
You have emoted: A soft smile finds its way across Taiyang's face as he tilts his head to the side, looking at nothing in particular.
You cease to follow Tekias Uymari.
>>>Quietly stepping into Morgun Forest and staying there
For the first time in quite a few minutes, there is energy and motion within the thick fog blanketing Taiyang's mind, and a loud inner voice asks, "Miss...Miss Omei? I know You hear everything, and I don't remember how to find You. Could...could You show me a path?"
You have emoted: Taiyang wanders aimlessly through the forest, eyes flicking from tree to tree as though looking for something familiar.
>>>Wandering around the forest, looking for anything familiar from the last time I was there, ending up stepping in and then out of the Seer's Wood when a SINGLE SECOND LATER
(Tells): The Divine voice of Omei, the Imago echoes in your head, "Know you of the Seer's Wood?"
You have emoted: Taiyang nods his head emphatically, looking back the way he had just explored.
"I think so, Miss Omei. I will keep looking, until I find You. I brought that gift I promised, to thank You." There is a small amount of yellow and gold rising in the fog, feeling so similar to a smile that it could almost be seen upon his otherwise expressionless face.
>>>Wandering through Seer's Wood until...
--- Approaching a grand pyramid -32:-2:1 ---
Glimmering hints of grayish daylight are all that pierce through the darkening clouds above. To the north is a large sandstone pyramid, four-sided and built with individual blocks like stairs that one could climb if only tall enough. The river that flows around the temple is clear and clean, full of fish and plant life that blooms brightly at night. The grass underfoot grows red in color sprinkled with flowers in blues, greens, and purples. A large tree grows to the southwest, gnarled and twisted, its leaves sprinkled all over the ground below it. An enormous sandstone obelisk circles slowly in the air here, its form covered in intricate glowing runes.
You see exits leading north, southeast, and southwest.
You have emoted: Taiyang stops in his tracks as the pyramid comes into view, and his mouth opens in a soft 'o', nearly dropping the painting clutched in his arms before he carefully clutches it back to his chest and clamps his mouth shut tight. "That...is very big."
(THINK:)
"Maybe at the top?" The fog slowly fades as it is replaced with feelings of genuine curiosity, what dark feelings it hid moments ago seemingly lost in the power of these new thoughts.
>>>Quick climbing through the pyramid
Before a skyward-spanning staircase.
Glimmering hints of grayish daylight are all that pierce through the darkening clouds above. You stand upon a platform at the top of the monolithic temple that offers quite the view of the spanning surroundings of the ethereal forest in the distance. Even from here the myriad of colors that make up the foliage is striking. Most awe inspiring of all is the series of steps before you that start just off the northernmost ledge of the platform; these steps, made up of some swirling violet essence that solidifies when touched, swirl upwards almost endlessly. Their apex is nestled high above the clouds in a way that looks from this point only like a small blot in the sky.
You see exits leading up and down.
You have emoted: Taiyang's breath deepens slightly as he continues up the staircase, staring upwards as though certain of his path despite the ache creeping into his ankles at the repetitive motion.
(Omei's throne room)
Dim, lazy sunset fights to break through the veil of black clouds drifting overhead. You stand upon a platform of sandstone-hued material that floats high up here in the clouds, its surface filled with podiums of all different heights. Placed upon each of these podiums are different statues in bronze of the strange animals that roam the forest outside. In the center of the room is a clearing that sits the throne of the Imago, and several feet in front of that lies a collection of pillows in pure white. From several places out of the way are floating braziers that burn incense, the strong scent of sandalwood and something else, something foreign, filling the room. A glowing iridescence sparkles within the air. The Imago's many-hued throne stands here, replete with sundry colors, shapes, and symbols. A brass telescope is here, angled towards the sky. A violet water lily candleholder of glass is here on the ground. Candles that flicker and glow with ethereal purple-tinged flames have been placed sporadically across the spanning platform before you.
You see a single exit leading down.
(RAINBOW)
The platform's candles flare in brilliant, manifold hues as the Imago eases Herself into Her throne, soon becalming themselves and their light once more.
Omei takes a long drag from a lit chaotic rainbow cigarette of vivid archers.
Omei exhales a white cloud of smoke, redolent with pungent scents.
You have emoted: Taiyang's head turns around as he looks about and turns in a wide circle, finally stopping when he notices the throne and offering a small smile that sends tendrils of soft gold curlicuing from his head into the air just surrounding him. "Miss Omei," he says with a soft, happy voice, "It is nice to see You again."
The bitter and evocative fragrance of myrrh carries through the air as the convoluted carvings upon a black pillar candle gradually melt into an abstract mass.
"Hello, tailed one," Omei replies. Despite Her mask being naught more but a blank, black field, a manifold of strange, inverse color plays across it - the suggestion of a fond smile, accompanied by an effulgent glow where eyes ought to lie. "It is good to perceive you likewise." Strange, pungent smoke coils from beneath Her mask's chin. "Come nearer," She bids, one long claw gesturing to a pillow. "Sit. Lie. You have many thoughts."
You have emoted: Taiyang steps closer towards the throne quickly, and then blinks before seeming to remember and bright green joins the soft gold as he says, "Oh! I do not want to forget, I brought this for You! How I remember our very first meeting. I admit I didn't paint it myself, Empress Rebra helped me, because she's..." He smiles, and a tinge of dark indigo taints the soft gold as he continues, "...she's very nice." He quietly places the painting on the ground where it is fully visible, and then shuffles forward before sitting down and crossing one leg over the other, leaving a trail of indigo-touched gold as he moves.
You drop a painting of Omei and Taiyang.
Your pose is now set as:
Sitting near to the throne, Taiyang smiles a sad, soft smile.
Omei peers closer. She sets down Her mug, and - claw freed - at once is wielding a blazing, white orb of light in Her hand. She holds it nearer to the painting and cranes forward, leaning from Her throne to get a better look. The mention of the Consanguine Empress inspires initial skepticism; but moment by moment, Her lasting silence belies the painting's deeper impression upon Her, and She brings Her other hand - cigarette and all - to Her mouth, utterly forgetting to draw from it for some time.
At last, inadequately, Omei, the Imago says, "It is magnificent artwork."
Lin arrives from the down.
You have emoted: "She asked if I wanted to," Taiyang says, the story tinged with a veil of persimmon smoke, "And I didn't want to be mean and draw one of my bad drawings, when You had been so nice. So she asked me everything I could remember, and I told her what I saw, and what I felt, and...she made that."
Omei takes a long drag from a lit chaotic rainbow cigarette of vivid archers.
Omei exhales a white cloud of smoke, redolent with pungent scents.
Slowly, an immense, three-eyed rojalli's eyes each blink one by one.
Clearing Her throat, Omei, the Imago says to you, "I- I am touched beyond mortal words, tailed one. It is a glory of art."
Lin mounts the steps, appearing first as a set of horns wrapped in twisted metal, then ramifying as a statuesque, musclebound creature, in the company of an enormous rojalli. Her face is stony. "What is this," she hisses, glancing accusatorily at you, as if she'd just caught you red-handed desecrating a work of art.
Omei turns toward Lin slowly, Her masked face impassive. She raises a clawed hand, palm flat, the emberous point of Her cigarette burning like a fiery eye. "Heel, Rojalli. The Consanguine is my guest."
You have emoted: The gold that hangs around Taiyang's head s he stairs at Omei and hears Her words is interrupted by bright pink as he turns and sees Lin, wincing and attempting to look small as he stares at her.
Visibly Lin bristles, stopped in her tracks, without need for Divine mesmerism or puissant force to hold her at bay. Her face flits back and forth between two dominant expressions: adoration and pleading for Omei, and a sort of desperate, unlovely hostility for you. "I don't understand," she growls, keeping far away.
An immense, three-eyed rojalli performs the same head movements, looking at Omei or you in sync.
You have emoted: Taiyang stares down at his hands, picking at open wounds there where strips of bloodied flesh have been peeled away, uncomfortably puce wisps colouring the air near his temples as he tries his best to not look overly offencive.
"I know," Omei murmurs, a note of sympathy in Her tone. She sets Her head upon one folded claw, putting the other - and its rainbow cigarette - to Her masked lips. She draws, exhales. Smoke curls upward in ascending spirals. "But neither does he. He has been upended." A sympathetic, rose-hued glance spills toward you, motes gleaming from Her empty eyes. "You know what it is to be upended, Rojalli."
Each word from the Goddess's lips falls upon attentive ears, but Lin has eyes only for you. Her inhuman face would be familiar to anyone who's raised a warhound or a vakmut for killing sport - like she's waiting for an order to kill. It takes a while for the words to truly penetrate her cortex, to absorb.
"I do," Lin admits quietly, lowering her head, glancing at the floor.
You have emoted: "I am sorry," Taiyang's voice is quiet when he speaks, and he looks up at Lin as though searching for something in her face that he does not seem to find. "I...I did not mean to be a bother, I just wanted to make sure I repaid the kindness." He exhales almost imperceptibly before turning his gaze away from Lin to look back to Omei, to Whom he says, "If I will make people upset, Miss Omei, I can come back another time. I do not want to be mean to Your followers."
(THINK:)
"...after all, that is the nice thing to do. And I am not bad, or mean, I am nice." There is a ripple through what little fog remains in the boy's mind, like a beast threatening to breach through sodden, swampy ground and face the surface with all the threat it may possess.
"You do," Omei agrees - but then She turns to you. "No," She cuts in, Her tone low, decisive. She holds up a clawed hand. "Stay." Then Her mask turns, focused toward Lin - motes of warrish red creep through Her expression. "He is my guest," She repeats calmly. "I have judged his presence acceptable, and I wish to hear his mind. You will control yourself, you will leave, or I will teach you manners. The choice is yours, Rojalli Mine."
Eldritch violet fire coils gently around the Goddess' claws, the brass bangles about Her wrist catching its many-eyed reflections.
Lin just thought:
[She is stricken by the memory of the other congregants, their petty defensiveness, their insistence on perceiving every word as a slight.].
"I will control myself," Lin pledges, proving obedient to a fault, gazing at some indeterminate point around Omei's feet. "I will... disturb You nor your guest any longer. If I could but have Your ear, when You are not so busy." Her tail snaps about in agitation.
(THINK:)
Every thought that passes through Lin's mind is only barely perceived by Taiyang's own, manifesting as small scents that could easily be coming from the surrounding forest - now approaching as a gentle honeysuckle that is tainted by soured elderberry.
"Of course," Omei murmurs lowly, cyanic calm muting the scarlet notes to low, dusky purple. Her masked head bows forward. "I shall welcome it then, Rojalli. Soon. You have My word."
An immense, three-eyed rojalli shudders epileptically as his musculature slithers beneath his hide.
Lin bows low, then turns and leaves the way she came, as schooled as a trained martial artist.
Lin just thought:
[She does not at all hide her thoughts; they radiate from her like hearthheat. Her heart is stained with jealousy, and it expresses itself in the forefront of her mind.].
You have emoted: Taiyang's silence lengthens as he stares awkwardly back down at his hands; finally looking up at the departure of the woman and saying, almost to himself, "I...I hope she is not upset," he says - nose flaring slightly with each footstep that trails down the steps. Something like bitter anise hangs in the air, and he frowns as he whispers, "...or that she will be glad when she comes back." He turns his head and shakes it a moment later, sighing as though attempting to break out of a mood.
(THINK:)
Fog pours over the boy's mind as though ordered to do so, attempting to contain the violent squall of emotions threatening to break free with only limited success as it does not succumb as easily as it should, raging against the chains of somnolent thought rushing over its prison.
Omei's masked gaze trails down the stair after Lin. At length, She sighs - lifts Her cigarette - and takes a long draw that gusts from Her like a rainbow gale. "It is nothing," She remarks tiredly. "Nothing that cannot be amended given time and care. She is not used to Me entertaining Consanguine guests." She chuckles, a burgundy mist coiling forth to fog the air. "Calm, child. Breathe. Smell the sandalwood? Myrrh? What of the wind from the wood below?"
You have emoted: Though it takes a few seconds, almost as though Your words do not register immediately, Taiyang finally inhales through his nostrils and closes his eyes to focus. "...people do not like my kind. From the things I've heard, I can't blame them." His woods are a gloomy violet, tinged with tips of deep obsidian. Yet in the peace of the exhaled fog and the ambiance of the forest, gold slowly manages to peek through the cloud hanging heavy about his head as he sits statuesque for several long minutes. "It...it is very nice, Miss Omei. Quiet, and away from everything that wants to be loud and angry and...awful."
"Why do I think I dwell in the Morgun, darkest and most dangerous of woods?" Omei replies, a smiling silver crescent looping across the midnight of Her mask. Starlike motes glitter in its wake, crystalline hums sounding low from their effulgence. "It keeps loud, stupid people and their loud stupid thoughts out of Mine!" Her laugh, a violet cackle, follows. She settles, fogged by mist and smoke.
You have emoted: Brilliant streaks of sunny gold pierce the fog around Taiyang in brilliant streaks that illuminate their surroundings, his laugh gaily ringing through the air as the mist in his mind fades away ever-so slightly and the turmoil seethes less violently, "...You are very smart. In the city, it gets very loud, and angry, so I like to sit in the desert." He smiles and sunrise orange follows each word, "The ponies like to run through, and kick up sand. I pick out a few grains, and watch where they fall, and then see which can settle to the bottom of the dune first. It is...very relaxing, and helps me to not think about scary things."
Cyanic vines glow up from Omei's arm, and She sends them timorously forth to test the air; where they drift against your sunny gold, silver-white shimmers awaken. "Sand is wonderful for that sort of thing," She considers. Hourglasses, half-remembered, spin about Her; ever-turning, ever-whispering, all the secrets of time trapped within their crystalline confines. "As is quiet. I walk these woods, when I am not walking the Chaos that is Mine."
Omei, the Imago says to you, "Real enough to keep Me safe - but unreal enough that I do not feel distant from My domain."
You have emoted: "It does feel like I am...in another world." Taiyang says, nodding in agreement as he stares up at the colours coiling through the air and sending further periwinkle and robin's egg up to join them, wonder and gentle curiosity in his voice, "Everything that seemed so horrible and important just an hour or so ago...it feels like it is something I read in a story, here." The sounds of covers closing gently against thick pages echoes the final syllable.
Omei laughs aloud, delighted by your comparison. "And you have seen barely anything yet," She retorts, absinthe-hued amusement bubbling yellow-green in the air. The color makes Her remember Her mug, and She lifts it to take a lazy swig of lemonade. "I'm curious," She comments, after swallowing - a flash of Her teeth, before Her mask slips back into place. "Can you tell Me your story?"
You have emoted: "I can," Taiyang nods in agreement, soft yellow chasing gold as he appends, "If You do not mind that it is missing pieces. There are...half-memories, from before I was taken as a slave. Things I can barely remember, that are private and come to me when I am my happiest, and struggle to hold for more than a few seconds."
"I understand," Omei whispers, Her voice catching a moment - as though your description has proven some difficult reminder of something, until then, unconsidered by the Goddess. "In whichever form you wish. You are not lost for modes of expression. I hope that eases you."
You have emoted: Taiyang exhales softly, and closes his eyes, "...I think, a long time ago...someone cared about me." There is a soft feeling that hangs heavy in the air, the sound like the rustling of a butterfly's wing against a leaf, feeling soft against the wide flat of the outer thumb. "...but...someone else did not like me." A loud crash, a distant cry, and dark greys and charcoal stain the air as the muted thuds of flesh impacting flesh ring out from the roots of nearby trees. "...and I think they sold me, because of that other person. I woke up in a cell, and escaped here...where I was found by the people of Bloodloch."
Low, blue-purple motes, mournful and oceanic, course through the air; the wind's rush becomes something like water, a soothing murmur of low illumination.
Omei carefully lights a black, myrrh-scented pillar candle.
Omei puts a lit black, myrrh-scented pillar candle into a violet water lily candleholder of glass.
Straightening from Her candleholder, Omei sinks into a fully reposed position, head set upon Her outstretched arm. She, too, is muted - violet and soft, to complement the greys.
Omei, the Imago asks you, "They took you in?"
You have emoted: The coppery scent of blood hangs heavy with mud and grit, boiled ozone from lava flows and the scuttling of rats and sweeping of silk against stone fill the space near Taiyang as he continues his story, "...Not at first. They ignored me, and just let me...exist, to see if I would be food or if I would be friend. I was no one, just a kid with a broken tail and a hungry belly. I flung myself into my lessons, and...there was a sense of purpose that I fell in love with. Or, re-discovered my love for?" The tang of city streets fade away, replaced with the musty scent of a library full of boots, with liquid wax bubbling and the gentle warmth of candlelight casting dancing shadows nearby. Orange trails the boy's words, and he continues, "That's when the Empress found me, half-starved but sitting in a pile of books almost as tall as I am sitting."
Indigo slowly grows toward azure, then cyan; open and clear once more, a ready parallel to your orange and that of the candle. Omei relights Her cigarette in a brief, eldritch blaze of violet; smokes, exhales, in myriad rainbows and scents; and Her mask emits a soft, unbidden, "Aw." A silvery outline appears: a crude, sketchlike seeming of that first encounter, the books whispering their every secret to the moonwrit boy.
You have emoted: "She looked at me, in nothing more than a too-big coat of scaled armour and a ratty coat I found on the ground, and..." The sweet scents of flowers permeate the air and there is a sense of wonder that is familiar: that of a young boy looking up to a powerful woman extending a hand of kindness with awe and untold trust. "...she took me in. She brought me to her shop, and let me eat until I could not eat anything else. Then she had me stand very still, and took measurements, and made these very same clothes." The green about Taiyang's clothing seems to dance and shift with the echo of shears and thread piecing them together, and he smiles as he cants his head upwards and continues, "...then, she took me to Esterport, and she pulled what seemed like more money than could ever exist in the world from her purse, and picked up pieces of something I still do not fully understand, and helped me affix it to my tail. And when she pinched the last piece, there was a loud crack, and..." Sharp, searing pain as though a limb were shoved back into socket, quickly replaced with cool comfort and sweet relief that swims with gentle, tickling pinks, "...my tail wasn't broken, not any more."
"She made you yourself again," Omei whispers, Her head bowing in reverence - in utter comprehension. Rosy, resplendent rays coil from Her empty eyes, flowering and blooming amidst the green. Soon your pink frames yet more ethereal blooms, dancing and swaying like half-living, half-existent moths. "What were those first moments like, after you had regained yourself?" She cranes forward, fascinated. "If you had to put color, sound, to it."
You have emoted: Taiyang's mouth falls shut, and he stays quiet for some time - his thoughts swirling around each other as he examines the memory very carefully, turning it over and over in his mind as colours clash against each other and smells flit back and forth too quickly to linger. Two slow minutes pass, his eyes flickering behind closed lids until he finally whispers, "...like a stream, that was dammed over by beavers. On the one side, the river is whole, yet the river is split in two, and on the other...there is just a shadow. A pained memory of what was once there." The phantom pains of a tail that is unresponsive, trodden upon, tender at even the slightest touch is prominent, and then suddenly the clearing springs to life in golds and crimsons, sweet and tender as he says, "And then a rain comes, and the river breaks the dam. It is full, and whole, and...and...so..." The word that escapes his mouth spills the very same colour into the air, spiralling out, "...rainbow." The tender sensation of pastries fresh out of the oven, a soft summer rain against the skin, a river rushing around the ankles; feelings of bliss and euphoria pass over each other and build into a crescendo as he relives the sensation wholly, of a limb restored as it reached up and brushed against his cheek with downy softness.
(RAINBOW)
Rainbow, rainbow, riotous and resplendent - a glorious chorus, writ chromatic and splendid; softness, sweetly spiraling through the smoke and thus the throne and its ethereal environs. All the air is a mirror for the memory of mending.
Eldritch violet follows in the rainbow's wake, darting from beneath the Goddess' mask.
"When I first became, transformed from mere shell to Goddess... it was much as you describe your own restoration."
You have emoted: Taiyang's eyes open to the spray of colours and gentle greens colour the air near him as he watches with abject fascination and curiosity.
"Rainbow," curls from beneath the mask, a dusky, shadowed mirror of full resplendence. "Rainbow, as there had never been and could not be before. I had been constrained, prior. Incomplete. My entire existence was one, gargantuan... liminal frustration."
(THINK:)
"A whole new set of rules, an ability to be like people like me can't even hope to be," the boy thinks - almost subconsciously noting as his attention remains entirely upon the Goddess before him.
The smoke that ebbs from beneath the mask is low, dreamy violet, scattering night's pale glow across Her in ethereal, soft, pink-and-blue shimmers.
"We never stop becoming. You know that, yes?"
You have emoted: "I think so," Taiyang says quietly. "Even people who are very old and smart like mister Tenshyo can learn, and experience new things. Things that young people, and new eyes, can see." He looks up and, genuine curiosity colouring the air a sweet vermillion, "Do...do You become more still, Miss Omei? It is hard to imagine there is anything You and the other gods cannot do."
A bluish, contemplative cast to the purple, now; a violet coiling toward nearby shades of indigo, a ready match for the verging vermilion.
"I do, as well. It is mortal of Me."
You have emoted: Taiyang blinks at that, and though confusion is written on his face, it disappears almost as quickly as it came with a soft smile replacing it to spill more gentle golds into the air.
"My... embodiment in My present shell happened more slowly than is usual for My Siblings," Her ethereal tones add. "Liminal for a long, long while, never quite enough essence to tip across - to shrive off My lingering mortalities as a moth does its cradle-cocoon."
You have emoted: "...how did You feel, Miss Omei?" Taiyang asks, unfolding his legs only to hug them close to his chest and rest his chin upon his knees. "I am sure that You must have felt something, knowing that You were different from Them."
Silver lances bright and brilliant through the air - a keen, cruel sharpness that leaves Her mask bereft and empty. The illumination melts away with a thousand small, cracking noises like shattering crystals; falling, drifting, like snow, a bitter ashen scent carried in its wake.
You have emoted: Sympathy writes itself quickly across Taiyang's face as tears spring unbidden to water his eyes, looking utterly crestfallen at the colours and scent fills the air, "...I...I am sorry, I should not have asked," he offers, apology marked by the spilling of tears over an eyelid to trail down his cheek and sending deep, sapphirine tones dancing among the crystals.
"Even before this shell of Mine, I have differed." There is a long, tense silence, the air itself holding its breath; the smoke hardly moves, hinged upon Her hidden maw. "I have differed in ways that set Me at distance, but which make Me capable of My work."
Indigo, indigo, a world of dancing, low-lit indigo, salt and brine coiling within its grieving depths.
You have emoted: Taiyang reaches up, and wipes away the tears with the heel of his palm, opening his mouth as though to speak before closing it once more. He takes a moment to think carefully before he says, "I...wish that You did not have to feel bad. I know what You mean, about...being different. Like I told You last time." His voice is bittersweet, burnt-orange timidly coiling from his mouth in curlicues that trail skyward, "...but I am very happy that You are the way You are, because You are very kind. And while I don't know much about Your work, I can't imagine that any of Yours would wish that You did not do as You do."
(THINK:)
"I think that made sense." It is a light laugh, internal so as not to seem disrespectful, despite knowing full well that it is a thought that can be heard. "Hearing that You are different, makes me think that it is even more okay that I am so different."
"I am necessary."
Bitter, cyanic pride; in that much, at least.
"I will always be necessary."
With another, soft-gold smile, you say, "And You are loved. By many people, both who follow You and who cannot. And You are respected, and liked very dearly, by those only fortunate enough to have met You and his own friends. It is a little bit...mortal, yes, but I hope You can feel those good things. You deserve to, I think."
Motes of rose arise and turn and dance; forming the strange, distant image of the Rojalli, and then other congregants; some perhaps recognizable, but many others not. Autumnal, sweeping hues frame them, low red to bright effulgent yellow, capturing their brilliance and vim and movement.
"In My many epochs, I have forgotten more than scores upon scores of mortals shall ever be capable of learning."
A pause; silver caught against low purple.
"But I shall not easily forget the love My chosen bear Me. It has led Me back, placed Me upon My throne, and inspired Me to become; just as I inspire them in turn."
You have emoted: The gentle smile upon Taiyang's face breaks into a beam that sprays brilliant gold around his head like a halo, exuberant joy in his face at those words. "I think You are right," he agrees, tail coiling behind him as he voices the feeling.
Omei takes a long drag from a lit chaotic rainbow cigarette of vivid archers.
Omei exhales a white cloud of smoke, redolent with pungent scents.
The scent of the cigarette seems to ground Omei once more - colorful and ethereal no more, She emerges from the cloud of smoke, and the black expanse of Her mask considers you. She sits up, stretching with a lazy grunt.
Curiously, Omei, the Imago asks you, "Is there anything else you'd like Me to perceive, tailed one?"
You have emoted: Taiyang's beam returns to its natural smile, and his legs fall to either side as he crosses his ankles. "I...I do not think so, Miss Omei. I am very glad that You have shared with me, and let me share with You. I will not forget it, or let my friends forget. It is how I will make things better, slowly."
"It is time I carried on," Omei answers - a rueful note in the admission. Her edges have begun to blur, moth's wings fighting to tear free of Her substance. She snubs Her cigarette upon the throne, a thin coil of rosy smoke licking upward from its stifled ember-end. "Carry My blessing back to Bloodloch; find silence and resplendence, should you need them."
Almost in afterthought, Omei, the Imago says, "...and bring Me another artwork soon."
You have emoted: A soft smile finds its way across Taiyang's face as he tilts his head to the side, looking at nothing in particular.
Omei, the Imago has bestowed a divine blessing upon you. It will last for 3 days.
Nodding his head, you say, "I will do my best, I promise."
A silver smile radiating from Her mask, Omei, the Imago says to you, "You needn't promise. I know you will."
You have emoted: Taiyang slowly climbs up to his feet and turns towards the stairs, saying, "Thank You, very much." He quietly makes his way along on the balls of his feet, pausing at the top of the stairs and looking over his shoulder with a soft smile that radiates soft gold.
---Fin---
4