[The darkness ripples and a scene slowly emerges like a painting on a black canvas. A city sprawls in every direction, its buildings lit up in flames. Three sundials hang in the burning sky.]
We wait... for the end.
[A familiar voice lilts from beneath a nearby cracked pillar. A figure sits sprawled at its base, dressed in an opera mask and a jester's motley.
Amon lifts his head and silently regards Ryoji.]
An end we could have avoided, had we known it was coming. Oh, folly...
....No. Even if you knew, an end would have been inevitable regardless.
[He does not know what calamity this is, one that sends up the city up in flames, and yet he knows one of its names: The Fall. The Final Days. The apocalypse may take many forms, but the result is always the same: oblivion.
Ryoji - no, not Ryoji, but something else - leans down to the fallen figure, bright blue eyes unblinking.]
If you knew, what would you have done? Would you have tried to stop it?
[A choked, pained laugh as Amon hunches his shoulders. Memories slowly return to him in flashes: A red moon, an earthquake, a black sky, the void of nothingness...
Fandaniel's consciousness surfaces from somewhere between a dream and wakefulness, darkening the world around them with its despair.]
What could I have done? Even if I'd captured the bird, the end would have come. We would have lived for thousands of years longer before allowing ourselves to die and escape the dreary monotony of our existence.
[He lifts a scarlet glove and catches a black feather between his fingertips.]
[Behind his mask, Amon sneers. He had believed this once, hadn't he? He'd believed that his life and those of his countrymen had meaning. That there was value in their existence.
Such hopeful longing was before... before...
His mind twists.]
Long did I search for meaning. None did I find.
[Amon moans as memories seep in from the waking world of a mask, robes, secrecy, and a deep, spiritual pain.
His form shifts and ripples, as if he isn't sure what he should look like anymore. Long, elven limbs shorten, gray skin turns white and the motley's bright colors darken into tamarind.
Fandaniel, once again wearing the corpse of Asahi, frowns at Ryoji but stares past him.]
Life's journey is fraught with suffering. We could shorten the road, you and I...
[The hands on his face and the wings pressed around him should repulse him, he knows. A part of him wants to pull away, to jeer and cackle but the rest of him refuses to move. This is where he's always wanted to be, after all. For thousands of years, he's sought the comforting embrace of death.
[Something flares inside of Death then and there. Something bright and burning. And with it comes with unfamiliar cruelty:]
You do not have the right for an early rest.
[His expression shifts to that of surprise, as if he did not expect himself to utter such things. This is beyond the extend of his role: shouldn’t he be a peacekeeper above all? Not to spark conflict and confrontation?
Perhaps there is something else that could say such things, beyond the wings and the night and the bearing weight of the full moon.
From the corner of his eye, Fandaniel might be able to see a glimmer of yellow beyond the pale.]
The road stays how it is. You have yet to reach an end because your conclusion is incomplete. Until then, peace will ever be outside of your grasp. Such is your punishment.
[Fandaniel flinches at these words and looks up into Ryoji's face with a pained expression, as if a knife has just slipped into his ribs.
No...not Ryoji. Whatever this vast being with moonlit eyes is.]
Early!?
[A ragged laugh.]
For ten thousand years I've walked this road. [Ten thousand or five thousand? Why can't he remember?] Why am I not permitted to step from it? What more must I do?
...Pray, put me to rest. 'Tis what one does with rabid beasts, is it not?
No, not yet. Ten thousand years is but a drop in the great expanse of time.
[It may be too much for any mortal, but Ryoji is anything but. Death has existed since the beginning of time, and will continue to do so long after the end.
Darkness spills from Death, dragging tendrils against Fandaniel's feet.]
If you ask such things, then it is not your time yet. You are no rabid beast - you are human.
[One who would recoil upon the ichor that now crawls below them.]
Hear. Feel. Think. Is this not the duty that has been given to you?
[Something old and ancient speaks within him, undeterred by the other's cries.]
You are no beast, no harbinger. I should know - I am one.
Your song is but a movement in the great expanse of time. One that is easily smothered by the turning and changing of tides. Don't you remember? You have already been stopped.
Your initial duty is at an end. Your second duty has failed. You must now look for another, to find your place in this tapestry of life.
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expiationlogs2025-01-13 12:39 pm
no subject
Time waits for no one.
[He stares at a clock that he cannot see.]
So why do you wait?
no subject
We wait... for the end.
[A familiar voice lilts from beneath a nearby cracked pillar. A figure sits sprawled at its base, dressed in an opera mask and a jester's motley.
Amon lifts his head and silently regards Ryoji.]
An end we could have avoided, had we known it was coming. Oh, folly...
no subject
[He does not know what calamity this is, one that sends up the city up in flames, and yet he knows one of its names: The Fall. The Final Days. The apocalypse may take many forms, but the result is always the same: oblivion.
Ryoji - no, not Ryoji, but something else - leans down to the fallen figure, bright blue eyes unblinking.]
If you knew, what would you have done? Would you have tried to stop it?
[Black feathers begin to fall where they stand.]
no subject
[A choked, pained laugh as Amon hunches his shoulders. Memories slowly return to him in flashes: A red moon, an earthquake, a black sky, the void of nothingness...
Fandaniel's consciousness surfaces from somewhere between a dream and wakefulness, darkening the world around them with its despair.]
What could I have done? Even if I'd captured the bird, the end would have come. We would have lived for thousands of years longer before allowing ourselves to die and escape the dreary monotony of our existence.
[He lifts a scarlet glove and catches a black feather between his fingertips.]
That damnable bird...
no subject
Death is a gentle being, and he reaches out to gently hold Fandaniel’s despairing face.]
You cannot avoid the end, but you can still live before it. The inevitability of oblivion does not mean you cannot cherish what happens before.
[Large black wings spring out of his back, before it covers them both — as if he is shielding Fandaniel from the woes of this world.]
Think not of the destination, but of the journey that lies before. That is where happiness lies.
cw: suicidal ideation
[Behind his mask, Amon sneers. He had believed this once, hadn't he? He'd believed that his life and those of his countrymen had meaning. That there was value in their existence.
Such hopeful longing was before... before...
His mind twists.]
Long did I search for meaning. None did I find.
[Amon moans as memories seep in from the waking world of a mask, robes, secrecy, and a deep, spiritual pain.
His form shifts and ripples, as if he isn't sure what he should look like anymore. Long, elven limbs shorten, gray skin turns white and the motley's bright colors darken into tamarind.
Fandaniel, once again wearing the corpse of Asahi, frowns at Ryoji but stares past him.]
Life's journey is fraught with suffering. We could shorten the road, you and I...
[The hands on his face and the wings pressed around him should repulse him, he knows. A part of him wants to pull away, to jeer and cackle but the rest of him refuses to move. This is where he's always wanted to be, after all. For thousands of years, he's sought the comforting embrace of death.
With an airy giggle, he sags forward.]
We could shorten the road...
no subject
You do not have the right for an early rest.
[His expression shifts to that of surprise, as if he did not expect himself to utter such things. This is beyond the extend of his role: shouldn’t he be a peacekeeper above all? Not to spark conflict and confrontation?
Perhaps there is something else that could say such things, beyond the wings and the night and the bearing weight of the full moon.
From the corner of his eye, Fandaniel might be able to see a glimmer of yellow beyond the pale.]
The road stays how it is. You have yet to reach an end because your conclusion is incomplete. Until then, peace will ever be outside of your grasp. Such is your punishment.
cw: suicidal ideation and melodrama
No...not Ryoji. Whatever this vast being with moonlit eyes is.]
Early!?
[A ragged laugh.]
For ten thousand years I've walked this road. [Ten thousand or five thousand? Why can't he remember?] Why am I not permitted to step from it? What more must I do?
...Pray, put me to rest. 'Tis what one does with rabid beasts, is it not?
no subject
[It may be too much for any mortal, but Ryoji is anything but. Death has existed since the beginning of time, and will continue to do so long after the end.
Darkness spills from Death, dragging tendrils against Fandaniel's feet.]
If you ask such things, then it is not your time yet. You are no rabid beast - you are human.
[One who would recoil upon the ichor that now crawls below them.]
Hear. Feel. Think. Is this not the duty that has been given to you?
sorry for the wait!
A voice that once reached for him before the Darkness of Zodiark blocked her cry entirely.]
Aye...
Hear the song of creation's end
Feel the sorrow at hope's demise
Think and find your way in the darkness.
But... That is my duty no longer. I am the song of creation's end, the sorrow of hope's demise and the smothering darkness.
[He clasps his hands against his ears, closes his eyes, and snarls.]
Fie!
Human? What nonsense! No, I am the foulest of beasts. The duty you claim I have is a rallying cry to the rest of the world to stop me!
no worries!
[Something old and ancient speaks within him, undeterred by the other's cries.]
You are no beast, no harbinger. I should know - I am one.
Your song is but a movement in the great expanse of time. One that is easily smothered by the turning and changing of tides. Don't you remember? You have already been stopped.
Your initial duty is at an end. Your second duty has failed. You must now look for another, to find your place in this tapestry of life.
GOD. Sorry I keep dying
The only duty I have is to myself, and that is to burn this tapestry of yours to ash.
[The words are spoken like a mantra chanted to ward off intrusive thoughts. Overhead, the burning sky flares brightly.]
The world serves only as a vessel for suffering! Life is only a meaningless chain of misery. That is... my answer to the question.
[He pushes against Death's arms in an attempt to stand.]
And I'll not change it so easily. Let me burn or take me now, 'tis your choice.