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unluckyopossum · 3 years

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I Need A Place I can Rest- CH 1

Viktor Vector x Fem!V

Vik wants to fix things for V more than anything. V just needs somewhere to feel safe.

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The sun had long since set, the moon now rising steadily over Night City as the constant hum of the streets above the small clinic became more pervasive. Snippets of conversations and raucous shouts from Night City denizens filtering through the cracks and crevices of the old building. The cramped streets, and shadowed alleyways filling with increasing numbers of bodies going to the closest club, BD lounge, or love hotel. The daylight that filtered down the stairs into the dark clinic had been replaced by the neon glow of signs and adverts from above. It was well past time for any clients to drop by, other than a potential emergency, but there were 24hr joints for those. The esoterica was dim and Misty was likely back to her apartment by now, preferring to leave before the streets became so busy.

Vik sat at his desk finishing up the day's paperwork and idly tinkering with his exo-glove. A habit more than a hobby at this point, since there was only so much that could be done for the gloves precision at a certain point. He had started taking his time closing up in the evenings, not because he was behind with his work, or wanted a moment of quiet time for himself after a busy day. Instead, for the small hope that a certain little merc might come and fling open the gates. V had started coming by the little clinic in the evenings frequently, shortly after they first met, and the addition of the relic to her person had only increased her visits. Vik relished in any time he was able to spend close to V, but the ripper in him hated what caused the encounters. The merc always seemed to be struggling with a new relic malfunction or scrape from one of her increasingly dangerous missions. From what little she had told him, the search for answers and how to remove the relic had her treading dangerous waters. Though it seemed even the gigs from fixers and ncpd hustles had been getting her into his clinic several times a week. Most of those visits just involved a quick bandage or cleaning a scrape; first aid she was more than capable of doing for herself now that he thought about it. The older ripper didn't think too long about it, not wanting to give himself any false hope that these visits were more to see him than to receive medical attention.

Most of the time he felt helpless before V. Unable to save her from what the relic was doing to her, unable to find someone who could, and unable to express his feelings to her. So he instead had to trust the merc to find the answers herself, and pretend to be busy at the clinic late into the night on the off chance he could do the smallest thing to help her, trying to fight back the helpless feeling of not being able to fix this. Helplessness was not a feeling he managed well, and certainly not when it came to her. If he thought about it too much -like he did many nights- a deep feeling of self loathing would creep up for not being able to help one of the few people he considers close to him. If anyone should be helping her it should be him ...right? He should be able to keep her from dying like Jackie.

He wasn't one to share his feelings but on the rare occasion Misty had caught him in one of these spirals she had given him one of her knowing looks and reminded him that having supportive friends and somewhere safe to go was helping V, a lot. She didn't neglect to add that V did seem to run right to him when things went wrong, so he was clearly doing something right.

At the time it had made his heart feel like it would beat out of his chest as he tried to remind himself that of course she would see her ripper first. It wasn't like she was going to see Vik specifically or anything, he was just her ripper. Though that wouldn't explain all the times she has visited Misty to talk about some new tarot mural and always came down to see him. Often bringing him a coffee exactly as he would order without him ever asking for one first.

He shook his head letting the thought roll off of him, breaking out of his daydream with a long deep sigh.

Not that he hadn't been paying attention to her since Jackie first introduced then, but he found himself getting stuck thinking about her more and more often. While Jackie was alive he told himself he was just thinking of her as a new choom. One who always made him laugh and could talk him into silly plans even Jack couldn't. A friend who he worried about on missions late at night and whose eyes held light in a way he had never seen even with the most advanced optics. One who probably didn't think of him as anything more than that. He had realized that he felt more than that when losing V became a reality, and he spent more time pushing those thoughts aside than he would admit... even to himself.

Finally settling down his tools he ran a large hand through his hair, wincing towards the back of his head reminding himself that his chance at something more with her was likely long past for the aging ripper. Staying close friends and making sure to support her as she tried to survive was more than he could ask for.

Before his thoughts began to spiral again he checked his monitor a final time. The corner of the screen let him know he had been lost in thought longer than he expected. V knew he was normally long gone by now. There was no point in him hanging around any longer if she wouldn't be dropping by, and he had long since passed any excuse that he was there to do paper work.

He rose to his feet slowly resigning himself to locking up and leaving for the day. His apartment was close by, but the idea of returning to an empty home wasn't an appealing one tonight. Normally he wouldn't mind the quiet time alone at home after a long day; to have a drink and decompress. Yet tonight being left alone with his thoughts the way they had been going was daunting.

Bending back down to the desk he roughly snatched the keys off the surface to lock up the gate, turning to leave. It would have been clear to anyone watching his disappointment with the evening by the way his broad shoulders drooped as he made his way to the clinic exit. Heavy boots dragging across the floor, exhaustion more present in his gait than the normal reserved swagger he carried himself with. Reaching for the gates he halted in his tracks, his heart skipping, and a panicked weight formed in his stomach.

The scuffed toe of a familiar pair of boots was just visible through the gaps in the gate grating. The leather barely peeking from the corner by the stairs leading to the alley above. Panic fully set in as Vik took a breath and time began to slowly move for him again, pushing him into action. He flung the gates open with more force than he felt he ever had before, and as he whipped around the corner was confronted with V's still form.

Haphazardly slumped against the wall, her eyes were closed but the rise and fall off her chest was all Vik needed to breathe a sigh of relief. Her breathing was steady and deep letting him know that if she was in danger it wasn't immediate. Unconscious was a world better than what his first reaction had been, unconscious he would work with. A quick glance over showed one of her mantis blades stuck extended, metal twisted and warped where it connected to her arm. Her hands and forearms were splashed with drying blood, hers or anthers he couldn't be sure. Though based on the burgundy tint covering the entirety of her blade he could tell at least most of it wasn't from V. Kneeling next to her he placed a hand on her shoulder, and with no response, called out her name softly.

"V? Can you hear me sweetheart?... V? Valerie?" He tried at last.

Her full name was known to wake her after even the most degenerate nights out with Panam.

No response.

In a flurry he popped back in the clinic grabbing a tarp to cover the exposed blade. Neither of them would be happy if one of the two was injured because he was rushing. Kneeling down he wrapped the blade securely and slipped one powerful arm under her knees, the other under her back. Lifting her off the ground as gently as possible the thought of how light she felt in his arms flooded through his mind for a short second before being cast aside by the hammering dread of what might have happened. As he turned to take her into the clinic she finally began to rouse. Looking up into his sharp green eyes barely visible over his shades she gave a weak smile.

"guess I didn't make it in the door huh"

she reached up her good arm, shaking slightly, and placed it gently on his cheek.

"yep not dreaming, sorry Vik" she kept speaking before he could even ask what for.

"' S’okay though, not my blood. Blade got messed up, but I'm fine" She mumbled and squeezed her eyes shut as Vik set her down in his procedure chair.

"V?"

"Sorry… it's just the relic, acted up real bad on my way over, that's why"

She gestured loosely towards the gate. A frown made its way across Viks face before he could control it. The relic, an ever present sore spot for him, a man he has never met slowly taking V away.

"I know what you're thinking Vik, but really, I'm alright... it's already passing"

She tried to comfort him, giving his forearm a delicate touch as he powered up the screens by the table, letting the touch linger as long as she could.

" Is it getting worse v, you taking the blockers?" A sheepish half smile creeps to her lips.

'' Well, I'm not taking them regularly..."

Which he knows means never.

" We just have a lot to do, and having him around is really helpful Vik"

“How much is he really helping sweetheart, he's the one killing you” A hint of malice laced the rippers words.

V’s face crinkled as she looked at the far side of the clinic, as if having a conversation with someone he couldn't see. Vik realized it was the dead rocker, he could help but be irritated that Silverhand was in his clinic, not that he had any say in the matter.

“It's not like he wants to” V said barely above a whisper.

”Wants what V?” He asked moving to unwrap her blade, and address the reason she was in his clinic in the first place.

“ For me to die, said he would trade in a heartbeat... well not that he has one anymore, other than mine” she shifted in the seat looking uncomfortable as if she didn't want to disappoint either of them with her response.

She had to know how Vik felt about Johnny, it wasn't like he could hide the disdain in his voice when the parasitic rocker was brought up. Johnny was her friend now, and while they gave each other shit all the time she didn’t want Johnny to think she blamed him. She also didn’t want Vik to be disappointed in her for befriending the engram slowly killing her. V didn’t give a shit what most people in Night City thought of her but Vik was on the short list of people whose opinions mattered most. Higher on that list than she was willing to admit, and higher than Vik could know. Vik sighed, thumb and forefinger rubbing across his brow drooping his head.

“ I know you don't like him Vik, but he helped get me to you” The ripper peaked back up at her eyebrow slightly raised.

“ I know V, hard to separate him from what he’s doin to you though, don’t want to lose someone else to the relic, especially not you”.

He hadn’t meant to remind her of Jackie but he couldn't help but think of him, dead in his clinic. Trying to clean up his best friend for his family when arasaka ripped him away. Their relic threatening to rip V away from him in a way that felt so similar. It was hard to admit but losing V terrified him more than even losing Jackie, the terror ever growing the more she wormed her way into his heart.

She had started to frown, he realized, probably thinking about Jackie. He worried that he had made what she was going through even worse, he had hurt her.

“ Sorry V, shouldn't have brought it up, tell me about your arm, what happened.” He desperately tried to change the subject. He wasn’t trying to make her feel guilty but seemed to be saying all the wrong things.

“ Ah... nah Vik, you didn't do anything wrong, didn't mean to worry you… don’t need to waste your time thinkin bout me.” But he always thought about her, worry or not.

She lifted the arm with the damaged blade shifting it inspecting the warped metal.

”This though, cyber psycho. Not the usual fair though. None of them have been like her so far, and you know I have butted heads a bunch of these guys so far.” She paused slightly, eyebrows furrowing ” Some maelstrom ritual on this girl, must not have gone well since she went psycho and all. Spooked me though, looked like a ghost or something. So she caught me off guard hence...” she flapped her arm in the air, the blade creaking in protest.

” She really did spook me for a second though Vik, I've seen a lot but that was a first.” the ripper finished gathering his tools with a chuckle settling down on his stool by her arm to get to work.

” Can’t imagine you being bothered by much out there V, quick pinch” before she knew it he had done a ring block on her arm to get to work.

” Yeah... I guess it wasn’t so much the ritual, or the dead malstromers, that's pretty much my everyday. I guess I doubted what was real for a second. Hit a bit too close to home ya know. Guess that was never something I had to think about until recently and now… well. You know.” Silence hung in the air, only the clicking of tools and metallic creaking breaking it.

Vik wasn’t sure how to respond, to him V was still V. The only person who could brighten any day for him, who he couldn't stay mad at no matter how much trouble she brought through his door, and the person who made him feel like his heart would stop when she looked up at him. It wasn't just her though he knew, now when she clung to his arm trying to talk him into something he wouldn't want to do, Johnny was right there with her; And one day soon it might not be her at all. Johnny could take over whether he even wanted that, and Vik may never see or even hear from her again. Her reality was constantly in jeopardy and that was what frightened them both. Vik didn’t want to wallow in those feelings though, thinking of losing V made him feel like a nail was being hammered into his chest right by his heart, an oddly motivating feeling.

” V, you’re you... the same V Jackie introduced me to. You may not see it because you have to listen to Silverhand all the time, but those of us who know you, we can see it. You're still the same you.” he squeezed her hand gently before snapping a piece of blade back in place.

The merc blushed lightly looking down uncharacteristically shy, squeezing his hand back clumsily due to the numbness from the anesthetic. Her eyes darted up to his where he was already staring at her, eyes locking with each other. With a loud click the mantis blade retracted back into place pulling them both back to reality.

” Alright sweetheart I’m all finished with ya, should be back in working order.” the ripper started to stand leaving her side to return his tools.

Her hand darted out fingers tangling in the edge of his loosely tucked shirt.

”Vik… I…” she trailed off keeping a stiff grip on his shirt as he set the tools on the table by the chair.

”It's getting worse Vik... and well, I’m not sure I have enough time anymore… to fix this” he didn't move away from her grip but a hand returned to rub his forehead the ripper looking almost frustrated.

“V you need to stop giving that thing control, I told you that would make things move faster” her voice raised, she had wanted to be comforted not lectured.

”He isn't a thing Vik you know that, he’s my friend, and it impacts both of us”

“V he isn’t even a person, just an engram of a long dead Rockstar”

“I get it Vik, I fucking do, I don't want to die that’s the point... but I’m fucking scared and at least he is there when I’m alone” The ripper continued rubbing his forehead and let out a low exasperated sigh.

“V for fuckssake you know I'm not good at stuff like this” He wanted to comfort her and hold her tight more than anything, but the words he wanted never seemed to be within his grasp.

“Well fucking aware Vik, shouldn’t have expected anything more form you” … shit, he hadn’t meant to get mad, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her it would all be alright, that he was right there and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. That all he wanted was for her to survive so she never had to leave his side. But none of that would help her, would just make her uncomfortable, and put added pressure on her. He wanted to tell her he loved her … but stopped himself like he had for months.

“V…”

“Don’t Vik, I don't need a lecture” the merc finally let go of his shirt, attempting to sit up and get out of the chair still looking a bit dizzy from the previous malfunction.

She refused to make eye contact as she stood, preparing to delta as fast as she could.

” The last thing I need is the one man whose opinion means a damn to me giving me shit”

Vik started to open his mouth to explain, he wasn't trying to do that. He never wanted to.

” Look I know you hate him and you don't get it, but I'm trying my best. Even if that means Johnny needs to take over some times, and look... I get it it may speed things up, and that scares the shit out of me but I don't know another way.”

“ you could ask for help V”

“ Vik I ask for you help so much I feel like a leach, like i'm taking advantage, I bother you all the fucking time… I can’t impose on your life more than I already do. I know you cant want a half dead gonk barging in here all the time… I just… fuck forget it”

In one swift movement she hopped up and walked quickly towards the door, purposeful strides carrying her away from the ripper.

” Vik sometimes I don't want you to try and fix me, I just want you to be with you”

She moved faster towards the gates before she said something that couldn’t be taken back. Something that might ruin the friendship she had and make her look truly pathetic. She had already accepted the ripper was taking care of her out of friendship, guilt at not being able to save her, or some obligation to Jackie. She just used that to see his face as often as she could, spend what little time she might have with him. She knew she had to be a disappointment to him though, just some dumb streetkid who couldn’t get her shit together when it came down to the wire. She reached the gate and turned her head back to him one more time.

“Vik … I know you might not feel the same .. but when I’m here with you… fuck.” she swallowed her words.`` I’ll take better care of myself, I’ll get you the eddies for my arm soon” and she disappeared around the corner.

“V “ he shouted after her, frozen in place.

Vik stood in stunned silence for the most excruciating minute of his life. He had never been all that great with his words and couldn't respond as quickly as he wished. Sharing his feelings was a weak point all his exes had pointed out and he hadn't learned much on that front as he got older. Feel the same about what? Be with him how? A flicker of recognition flashed through his mind. He may make a fool of himself but it felt like now or never. Chase after the girl or she may walk out of his life forever, which meant he couldn’t see much for himself to lose. Normally not one to make rash decisions the ripper bolted out of the clinic flinging the gate open not bothering to lock up. If V was telling him she just wanted him to be near her, well he was going to make sure he did that for as long as he could calling out after her again as he bounded up the stairs.

At the top though, he didn’t see her, just the normal gonks hanging in the ally. The shadows and light in the clearing played tricks on his eyes through his dark shades. Glimpses at figures that could be the merc seemed to be at every exit as he whipped his head around frantically. A familiar meow sounded at his feet, the pale ally cat looking up at him eyes wide and piercing. The cat brushed against his calf then walked towards the elevator, meowing again at the closed doors, becoming him to follow it, the elevator panel indicating it was up at the roof. With a heavy swallow he reached out, all hesitation gone and pressed the call button.

#I am bananas nervous about posting this #like it's probably really not good #ugh #viktor vector #v x viktor #rippermerc #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #female V #this is probably a bad idea kill me

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obscuniverse · 4 years

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Obscu listens to: The Magnus Archives - Episode 1 ‘Angler Fish’

@derinthescarletpescatarian has been ranting at me about this series for what feels like a million years so here I am. Also apparently I’m the world’s biggest stereotype. Let’s roll, shall we?

Oooh, I do like spooky violin. Can’t have a horror anything without spooky violin.

Okay can we pause and talk about the symbolism of having ‘Angler Fish’ be your first episode title? Fun Fact! As you may recall, the angler fish is what happens when you ask any child to draw any animal that they imagine has teeth, and the teeth come out all different sizes and directions but they’re definitely spikes, and then they get so caught up with the teeth that they rush the rest of the body so it looks like a particularly carnivorous poop? That’s the one. The part that’s particularly relevant is the the bit where they’re a bunch of glowing knobheads; that is, they have a fleshy forehead appendage where the end is colonised by bioluminescent bacteria, which they use as a lure for smaller, less coprotype prey. So we’ve got some strong lure imagery, and it’s the first episode, so on one hand this is literally the lure that the series is using to draw us, the readers, into consuming (or, if you know @derinthescarletpescatarian, being consumed by) the series. Of course, it’s almost certainly referring to the content of the episode as well so I anticipate a protagonist (and possibly diverse other victims) to be _lured _into something bad for them.

Secondary Fun Fact! Anglerfish mating involve the male biting into the belly of the (several times larger in size) female and hanging on until their skin and blood vessels literally fuse together, with the anglerfish male being fed directly by nutrients from the blood of the female through their shared circulatory system. Will our protagonist bite off more than they can chew and become hopelessly, permanently enmeshed in something larger and more dangerous than they, so interwoven with it that they are unable to extricate themselves from it but also being given by it the means to survive? Will we the listeners? I guess we’ll just have to hit play because I’m only 36 seconds in. I do like the narrator’s voice though.

More spooky violin, can’t go wrong with that. Ooooh a crescendo. Hot fucking damn. Oh snap there was some sad tunelessness there!

Ohshit it’s a recorded diary! Every horror game I’ve ever played has prepared me for this moment.

Nothing spooky happens at a research institute named for strength or might in both Latin and Norse. Certainly not one that deals in esoterica. Okay, let’s see what Johnathan Sims (Simms?) gets up to at Swole Hogwarts.

What’s that? The previous Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher Archivist is dead and you’ve been hired by Spooky French Dumbledore who is almost certainly a monster because of course he is to replace them? This will end only well and definitely not with a spiral into a mental breakdown culminating in some Here’s Johnny! shenanigans.

“There are very few genuine cases” and now that you’ve jinxed yourself every single genuine case in the world is going to be crawling out of the walls to say hello. You’d think after 4 years you would’ve learned not to say such things. It’s like watching D-Class personnel at the SCP foundation.

“When an investigation has gone as far as it can it goes to the archives” (emphasis mine). So you’re gonna be digging into a 200 years’ of spoopy cold cases that are gonna get real hot real quick. I’m down.

Ahahahaha. Oh academia. Even in Swole Hogwarts you can’t get away from theorists vs practicalists.

86-91-G/H is definitely going to come up again. I can vividly picture the wild strewn-about room of someone driven mad by the haunting nature of their job. Or of my own office because of who I am as a person. I wonder which file ate Gertrude. I also wonder if the lack of use of modern electronics is a safety measure that Old Mate Johnny has unknowingly violated.

“I have secured the services of two redshirts, and you can tell because they’re unnamed researchers” “I don’t expect Martin to secretly be the highly skilled wizard/creature manipulating events form their apparent background doddering disguised as a silly fool in keeping with long fairy-tale tradition contribute anything except delays” Martin is definitely Snape. OOOooooOOOooooOOH, attempting to digitise T̵̨̛͚͉̫̩̰͍̓̽̽̍̓͑̓̾͌͗̂̈́̉ḫ̸͈̪̉̆̓̀͌̓͒̈̋̐͝ĕ̵͉̻̻ ̷̜͙̤͎͈̝̮̘̄̅̓̆̿̕͝R̴̪͑̍̒̍̾̅̐́͘͠͠ę̸̞̪͕̠͍͉̝̀̈́́͌̽ͅc̴̟̱͈̦̎̅̋̏͆̌̇͘͠͠o̶͚̞͕̲͒̋r̷̲̟̭͚̠̾͑́͋̓̈́̎͒̾̚d̴̩͓́͑̀͊̂̿͛i̴̗͈̣̟̻̯̼̘̞͕̋͜ͅņ̶̡͍͚͙̩͇̟̝̩̬͍͖̳̓g̷̯̬̙̱͚̏͂̔͐̉̇̾̋̓̎̈́͘s̷̢̫̗͙̱̻̳̞̩̐͛͂̍̑̐̊̚ have been met with significant spooky magical fuckery distortion. Fancy that.

The redshirts are named Tim and Sasha, and they will be doing some supplementary investigation suicidal monster hunting to fill in Blanks That No Man Was Meant To Fill. Maybe they’ll survive now that they have names, but they really should’ve saved the name for when one of them is mortally injured and the audience has to care enough about them for them to survive so you can reveal that they are in fact a person.

“I apologise to my eventual replacement after I am horribly eaten by/transformed into whatever is in 86-91-G/H any future researcher.”

Johnathan Sims is Niles Crane from Frasier and I will accept no word to the contrary.

Ah yes, the most esoteric and terrifying of eldritch phenomena; someone trying to bum a ciggy off you when you’re 80% scotch and 60% regret.

Ah, so “can I have a cigarette” with a human form ‘asking’ is the glowy knob on this ghost’s forehead. Completely without intonation because it’s just playing back a noise that attracts hammered people at night rather than understanding words that attract hammered people at night. Pretty sure I’ve seen this in an anime.

Apparently totally sloshed British students make better horror/urban fantasy protagonists than most movies would credit.

I take it back.

At least the spooky poopfish got some dinner.

I wonder if the missing student’s name also been John is a bit of tongue in cheek.

Oooh he’s created a “this is all bullshit” category into which he clearly intends to consign most of these. STOP PLAYING CHICKEN WITH THE UNFATHOMABLE HORRORS OF THE VOID BETWEEN THE STARS. Or, y’know, keep at it. This will not be hilarious and/or traumatic at all.

“Check out this photo of a spooky ghost if you run it through a sixth sense filter” That’s right Johnny, get beckoned.

I’m actually not 100% on this format but I’ll give it a few more tries.

#tma #the magnus archives #Swole Hogwarts #Spooky poopfish #86-91-G/H

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little-purple-thundercloud · 4 years

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A bit about L’yhta Mahre

PLACE IN SOCIETY

✖ FINANCIAL – wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

L’yhta is quite well-off thanks to her inheritance from her mentors, the sale of items she finds during adventures, and the rewards from levequests. That said, she has essentially no control over her finances, which are handled by the Tower’s majordomo, Volkido, nor does she particularly desire grand luxury. As such, she doesn’t typically have access to, nor employs, these assets, and instead lives a lifestyle of moderate means.

✖ MEDICAL – fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / deceased

L’yhta naturally has a very fast metabolism, and she’s also a professional adventurer; as such, she gets a lot of exercise that keeps her quite fit. She also tends to run around a lot, even when she could just as easily walk.

✖ CLASS OR CASTE – upper / lower / middle / working / unsure

“I’m used to being feared and. Having people keep away from me.” Powerful practicing thaumaturges can parley their status into considerable class if they want to do; she has no interest in such things (and indeed tends to find class structures abhorrent due to what they’ve done to people she cares about), so in practice, she ends up being an anomaly that those who care about social class aren’t quite sure what to do about.

✖ EDUCATION – qualified / unqualified / studying

An arguably abusive training regimen, followed by the fact that magic is effectively her entire life, has given this woman broad-spanning knowledge across a variety of topics.

FAMILY

✖ MARITAL STATUS – married, happily / married, unhappily / engaged / partnered / divorced / widow or widower / separated / single / it’s complicated

"My personal life is a, what do they call it? A trash fire, you know?” L’yhta’s current romantic situation is as a member of a poly pod, though she isn’t romantically involved with everyone in it. However, she also holds a flame for the auri girlfriend she rarely sees and the miqo’te bard that she’s not entirely sure how she feels about (and never has been). She was also briefly married, but that relationship fell apart due to disputes over her polyamorous inclinations.

✖ CHILDREN – has children / no children / wants children / adopted children

L’yhta doesn’t currently want children. Beyond the fact that she feels awkward around them, she feels children are incompatible with the life of an adventurer. She is also increasingly of the opinion that she’s incapable of having children at all, due to an ill-advised experiment in magic years ago.

✖ FAMILY – close with sibling / not close with siblings / has no siblings / siblings are deceased / it’s complicated

As she came from a tribal background, she has several siblings -- five sisters and a brother. Her brother is currently the nunh of that tribe; her sisters view her with anything from naked contempt for abandoning the tribe to benign distaste for "not being useful.” That her skill in magic obviates the need to be skilled at hunting with a bow or chopping down trees is lost on them, or perhaps they’re just jealous.

✖ AFFILIATION – orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by both parents / other

L’yhta was raised within a tribe, and she looked up her father with considerable hero worship. Unfortunately, he died shortly after the Calamity (at the hands of her older brother, no less), and her mother perished a few years later. She’s collected father figures since then -- most notably her mentor in magic, Robert Fletcher, and the Voice of the Tower, Eamont Desormaux.

TRAITS & TENDENCIES

✖ disorganized / organised / in between

Her lab area and notes, and indeed anything involving magic, are meticulously organized. As for the rest of her world -- well, there’s a reason Volkido has a maid clean her apartment daily, and as of yet her partners have yet to complain too vociferously about smallclothes and plates lying in random places around the house.

✖ close-minded / open-minded / in between

L’yhta can be extremely close-minded about certain things (religious zealotry, nobility, class structures, and harming others), but outside of those areas, she’s quite open-minded and accepting of other approaches and ways of life.

✖ cautious / reckless / in between

If there’s a ruin to be scaled or a cave to be plumbed, she’ll already be up or down it before anyone can voice opposition. She does show caution in some instances, in which case you know she’s pretty scared.

✖ patient / impatient / in between

The longer she has to wait for people to plan a course of action, the more fidgety she gets. This is a mage who thrives on action and doesn’t want to wait! She can be patient when it comes to things that require patience (such as alchemy), but she’ll be jumping to something else to stay occupied while the time passes.

✖ outspoken / reserved / in between

While she’s gotten better at holding her tongue over the years, L’yhta is a Big, Open Personality who largely isn’t afraid to speak her mind (unless she’s afraid it’ll wreck one of her relationships).

✖ leader / follower / in between

As much as she proclaims that she’s a terrible leader and she should never be followed, her knowledge combined with her personality put her at the forefront of most situations, and she’s always ready to take charge.

✖ sympathetic / unsympathetic / in between

“Ever since I have known you, you have never lived for yourself.” One could say that L’yhta suffers the Curse of Empathy -- she cares deeply about everyone’s feelings, even that of the world as a whole, and will readily shove any issues she has aside to take care of others.

✖ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

L’yhta is optimistic about the world as a whole; she truly believes that Good will ultimately triumph over Evil, that there will always be Lights in the Darkness, and that Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love will win the day. That said, she’s deeply pessimistic about herself and her life, largely feeling like she’s a walking disaster that ruins everything she’s near and that she’s never strong enough, never smart enough, never fast enough, and never wise enough to be a positive in others’ lives.

✖ hardworking / lazy / in between

Throwing herself into her work is one of L’yhta’s primary coping mechanisms for stress and her constant depression and inferiority complex, but even outside of that, she’s driven to improve the state of the Art.

✖ cultured / uncultured / in between

"Oh! And I’m her uncultured ijin girlfriend, you know? It’s great to meet you!” L’yhta has never found much value in “high culture.” This is not the miqo’te to ask about which spoon to use or how best to greet a Hingan noble.

✖ loyal / disloyal / in between

When she feels she has let someone down, L’yhta beats herself up about it. She’s tremendously loyal to everyone she knows, or at least tries to be; when she fails to live up to that ideal in any way, she tends to spiral into self-hatred.

✖ faithful / unfaithful / in between

Romantically, L’yhta has been unfaithful before, and it’s a sore spot that she flagellates herself now and then. She takes great pains now to be exceedingly careful about anything that might even be perceived as being unfaithful, to the extent that her partners sometimes think she’s too cautious.

Religiously, she has a deep devotion to her conception of the Mothercrystal, which to her represents the source of the Lifestream and all aether in the world. For her, protecting the children of the Crystal is a duty -- one she takes on gladly.

SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION

✖ SEXUALITY – heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual / omnisexual / demisexual

L’yhta identifies as bisexual, but in reality, she’s closer to polysexual.

✖ SEX – sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable

✖ ROMANCE – romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable

✖ SEXUALLY – sexually adventurous / sex experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious / uninterested

L’yhta really enjoys sex, yes, but she also heavily compartmentalizes. As such, if her mind isn’t on fooling around, she typically will appear entirely uninterested and not even pick up on innuendo. More than once she’s been talking about magic theory and entirely ignoring the obvious Fuck Me Eyes she’s getting.

ABILITIES

✖ COMBAT SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

While she’s not especially dangerous in melee, L’yhta is an extremely talented and experienced combat mage and adventurer with a keen eye for small group tactics.

✖ LITERACY SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

L’yhta will be the first to say that she’s not especially talented at linguistics, despite being conversationally capable in Hingan, Doman, Belah’dian, and Mhachi; being able to read Nymian and Amdaporian; and being marginally skilled at translating Allagan. It’s probably more fair to say that outside of learning languages well enough to be able to use them for magic or singing, her linguistic skills are iffy at best, and that’s mostly because she’s easily distracted from exercising them.

✖ ARTISTIC SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

L’yhta can sing and dance (ballet and ballroom) with reasonable amateur competency. She can also draw circles and other arcane geometries freehand, though she doesn’t consider this an artistic skill so much as a magickal one that every arcanist or esoterica researcher must be able to do.

✖ TECHNICAL SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Within the area of magic, L’yhta has incredibly advanced technical skills that enable her to create new spells and cheat reality (and the Reaper). Outside of that area, her skills are laughably poor. She can barely turn on magitek devices, can only cook a few simple dishes, and doesn’t really understand the principles of teknology.

Tagged by: @mercermachines, thank you! :)

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it! I’m late to this particular party, I know.

#ooc #meme #character bio

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rainboopz · 7 months

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"the esoterica spiral" in snapshots, but make it pixel 🟥

#artist on tumblr #pixel art #my oc #original characters #digital art #art #drystan #mr. man #zacharias #the esoterica spiral

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rainbabbles · 7 months

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they can't help you cognize more than this

#doodles #drystan #mr. man #the esoterica spiral

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thesunlounge · 4 years

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Reviews 328: Steady Income Band

Having just visited the musical world of the mysterious Prince Ozay, I’d like to now turn my attention to another project celebrating secretive identities and transportive balearica known as Steady Income Band, who’ve just released an untitled 7” on Pond Life. As in my Prince Ozay review, I won’t spoil the secret, though here it is less well kept and the inclusion of the letters “MG” and “GA” on the artwork alongside even a cursory search will reveal the project’s origins. But regardless of the source, the sounds are what matter, and across two spiritual sonics immersions, Steady Income Band carry the mind to seaside jungle paradises and forbidden temple rituals, wherein minimalist machine rhythms, island hand percussions, and slap bass funk romantics sit beneath pan-pipe mysticisms; stoner riffs anchor molten glam-psych climaxes while fuzz leads set the air flame; mallet instruments fall like rain against a drunken tom-tom ritual; and layers of free jazz esoterica are manipulated via outer-dimensional dub transformations.

Steady Income Band - Untitled (Pond Life, 2020) The A-side beings with cosmic crystals generating soothing currents of resonance while waves of some intergalactic ocean crash far in the distance. New age melodies colored in hues of teal and sapphire are buried in the ethereal murk, drones waver like a mirage as cymbals and tambourines work into the mix, and eventually, a rainforest groove develops around these sexual slap bass licks...the vibe slow, low, and methodical…like tropical funk reduced to its skeletal essence. Congas and bongos induce further body hypnosis and mystical pan-pipe melodies cycle through the sky as warming waves of synthesis billow in, hover in place, then mysteriously fade away. There are subdued instrumental choruses wherein quivering pads bathe the mix in hues of a noir sunset and ambient chord stabs push through the tropical fog…as if dream house pianos are being rendered through a balearic blur. The mix eventually reduces to exotica percussion accents, birdsong lasers, and cymbal taps, which then sets up a molten climax of psychedelic power, as proto-doom riffing crunches beneath anthemic fuzz shred sorcery. After this riffadelic freak out, we settle into lounge jazz smolder, with the guitar still shredding...only now the tones are clean, liquid, and buried under layers of smoke. And as the track ends, the slip slappy basslines slowly fade away, leaving behind a Floyd-ian rhythm pulse, heavenly string orchestrations, and spiraling blues leads.

On the flip, marimbas splash and splatter through a spring reverb haze while tribal tom-toms flub and flob into a drunken processional. The fall of idiophonic rain is crazed and asymmetrical, with tones pitch-shifting and bending in ways that defy logic, and rainforest whistles commune with sci fi laser zaps, swooshes of resonant feedback, and insectoid oscillations. The robot-tribal ceremonial never relents, though it sometimes seems to malfunction, with beats clattering over themselves and sounding as if they might fall apart, only to snap back to the ritualistic temple groove. Tapped cymbal accents break free from the rhythmic flow only to disperse into a fractal glow and abstracted feedback melodies evoke the songs of some sickly bird while pools of primordial liquid bubble and boil. Subtle dub fx add an additional layer of alien psychedelia and as the track continues to lurch and lumber, my mind drifts to the earliest free jazz vision quest of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, though here everything’s been chained to a cyborg pulse and slowed to the speed of a delirium dream.

(images from my personal copy)

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northcountryprimitive · 4 years

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ROOTLESS All That’s Left is a Desert (Aural Canyon 2018)

Originally published December 11, 2018

I’m very much enjoying the new wave of post-American Primitive artists doing the rounds at the moment: musicians who are taking the classic steel-strung guitar sounds of Fahey, Basho, Lang et al and using them as a springboard from which to dive into new and varied rivers of sound. Andrew Weathers has been ploughing this furrow for a good few years; Dylan Golden Aycock and M. Mucci are both regular dabblers; Elkhorn have added to the pot by spiralling off into cosmic fingerstyle psychedelia.

To this band of forward voyagers, we must now add Los Angeles based, New York native Jeremy Hurewitz, who releases music as Rootless, with previous albums on Experimedia and Cabin Floor Esoterica. His fourth outing, All That’s Left is a Desert, is his first for Austin, Texas-based Aural Canyon, a label hitherto more associated with modular synth and deep drone - which is, of course, in itself a fine and beauteous thing. Jeremy’s music dovetails neatly with the Aural Canyon aesthetic, not just because of the occasional hazily ambient passage, such as you might find towards the end of his astonishing magnum opus ‘Last Man Standing’, but because this is revelatory, immersive music.

Rootless arguably has a retooled new age vibe: not the wafty, overly-mannered new age muzak of popular cliche, but the real deal: organic mind and body music for deep listening and high times. The touchstone here is very early Windham Hill, a label founded, if we recall, by William Ackerman, himself a rather fine fingerstyle player whose debut, In Search of the Turtle’s Navel, paid sly homage to Fahey. It’s all circles within circles round these parts. The beautiful, insinuating urgency of ‘Self Contained’ is the strongest evidence for this allegation, a bubbling, eddying track that gathers momentum as it races downstream, until it resolves itself in a field recording of waves lapping on shingle.

This is far from mere unreconstructed new age redux, however. The American Primitive thing is there - and nudging more towards Basho than Fahey, particularly on the most straightforward offering, ‘The Third Man’- but when it comes to the guitar lineage, the man Jeremy identifies as a key influence, the mighty Sir Richard Bishop, looms large: not so much in the playing itself, though that is there, but in a shared dedication to a roving, questing, borderless eclecticism, that might take in psychedelic folk, improvised music, Middle Eastern tropes and found sounds - as exemplified by closer ‘Within from Without’, an ominous nocturnal hymn that is transformed into a quietly blissful evocation of early morning.

The other influence at play, particularly deliciously and most pertinently, is the avant jazz inflections of the Chicago school of post-post rock. This flag is nailed to the mast from the off: opener ‘Perimeter’, which, ironically, is an outright refusal to accept any such thing, quickly shifts from a shimmering solo guitar warm-up to full-on Don Cherry-style multikulti organic jazz, with stuttering percussion and keaning flute provided by Kevin Shea and Matt Nelson, who prove themselves to be sympathetic foils to Jeremy throughout.

This is music that exists - but is not trapped - in a spider’s web of influences, all of which have been spun before, but which are now recalibrated with a fresh zeal and a wide-open mind. One of the strengths of the album is that it is almost impossible to second guess where a particular track will go from the clues given in the opening few bars. You can happily file this album alongside Sir Richard Bishop; you even can file it next to your favourite American Primitive heroes, especially those with form for experimentation: but the revelation for me is that you can also file it alongside Jeff Parker, Jamie Branch and Nicole Mitchell. Incredibly, Rootless have made one of the best jazz albums of 2018.

https://auralcanyonmusic.bandcamp.com/album/all-thats-left-is-a-desert

#rootless #aural canyon #american primitive #fingerstyle #cosmic american

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foul-humors · 5 years

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Revelation

A small, weathered airship broke through the cloud layer below Azys Lla. The ancient allagan facility remained hovering in the sky as it had for five thousand years. Not by coincidence, one of the passengers of the airship found her earliest still-existing memories taking place there. Nighean smirked fondly at the fuzzy memory: How she'd been summoned to the facility like other creatures of the void, and how she'd seduced Paion, the lead researcher of the team that summoned her. How she'd broken free of her bonds, freed her fellow voidsent, and when the researcher asked the reason for her fury, she explained that she controlled her own fate.

She stood on the deck of the airship, arms folded. The two-man crew of the small craft managed the controls and mechanisms under the close watch of the half-dozen black-robed cultists. Or, rather, as close a watch as the half-panicked cultists could be, not accustomed to flying. At her side, a smartly-dressed Roegadyn with two, thick black horns sprouting from the sides of his head, seemed just as unbothered by the flight as the demoness at his side. He smirked at the sight of the facility. "Ah...thar she is..." the Roegadyn commented, satisfied.

Nighean nodded. "Dear pilot, pray guide us along the western edge of the floating continent. We seek a red structure, with a short, central column wrapped by lesser spirals. Tis solitary upon its rock.” The pilot muttered something in response, but seemed to acknowledge her. “Lord Heartsnatcher?" She spoke the Roegadyn’s name - a title, really - and waved her hand to some objects moving towards them from the facility.

"Ah right ye damned souls, hop to! Aronz, Jajalolo! Aim yer cannons to the second bell and deal wit them sharks!" the Roegadyn commanded. A hyur and a lalafell moved to the starboard side of the deck, wrapped their legs into the railing, and aimed their rifles. A volley was released under Heartsnatcher's direction, and moments later, another. The objects - allagan scouting drones - were downed swiftly.

"Got em', m'lady!" the hyur exclaimed.

"Most excellent, Aronz." She looked to Lord Heartsnatcher, and gave him an approving nod, then held her hands to the sides, channeling magic. "Mayhap the rest of this trip should be quieter." As more drones approached, to them, the airship would simply vanish from the skies.

Without further hinderance, the pilot brought the airship to the island in question, and all of the cultists - save Lord Heartsnatcher - stepped off and began making sure there was nothing there to get in their way. Heartsnatcher remained with Nighean as she addressed the airship crew...a miqo’te man and a hyur woman who looked less happy by the second.

"I am to understand one of you knows aught regarding the operation of Allagan Tech?" Nighean asked. The non-pilot nodded and raised her hand nervously. "Wonderful. You shall accompany us."

"Now wait just a minute! You said nothing about-!" the pilot started. Lord Heartsnatcher cut him off with a backhand.

"M'lady di'n't see fit ta speak ta ya. Keep yer comments to yerself," the Roegadyn growled.

Nighean sighed, and turned to disembark. "Lord Heartsnatcher, tis most unnecessary to strike him. He merely speaks from a place of concern for his companion." She looked over her shoulder. "Pray do not worry. I have no intention of seeing either of you come to harm, so long as you continue to cooperate." She motioned for the woman to follow as she moved down the gangplank.

Lord Heartsnatcher grumbled at the pilot. "Yer lucky she's runnin' tha show." He paused at the gangplank. "I'm doubtin' ya will leave yer lass behind, but if'n ya do, know I'm gonna boot her off the rock. But hey...mebbeh you'll catch 'er, aye?" He chuckled.

Setting foot on the flying island, Heartsnatcher hopped a bit in place to test how solid and stable it was. "Huh. Queer stuff, 'at," he muttered before looking to Nighean. "Might I have a moment o' indulgence, m'lady?"

"You may," the demoness replied, looking over the building.

"What be our purpose, 'ere? I thought yer Order, ‘at ‘Nevermorn,’ was headin' this way soon."

Nighean nodded. "They are...yet I would be sure there is naught to compromise me ere they arrive."

"Ah. Makes sense. Ya sure ya ain't the one wot likes books an' thinkin'?" He chuckled...though the sound caught in his throat as Nighean shot him a glare. With a bowed head, he muttered, "Er, beggin' yer pardon, m'lady."

One of the cultists approached. "The facility is wide open, my lady."

Nighean nodded. "Thank you, Miss U'hana." At that, the group made their way into the building, with the cultists leading, guided by Lord Heartsnatcher. Nighean kept the engineer close to her side, cooing to the young woman."Worry not. I shall keep you safe."

The nervous woman gave the demoness a troubled glance, first into those vivid amber eyes, then at Nighean's horns. Nighean smiled warmly and shook her head. "Indeed do I know your thoughts. You wonder if you can trust a creature such as I." She laid her hand on the young woman's shoulder, her vicious talons in full view, yet not presented threateningly.

"You're voidsent, right?" the woman asked.

Nighean nodded. "Indeed, but tis never been my want to use people, then discard them. Rather would I put you to work, and reward you appropriately. Thus do I expect to engage your services in the future."

The woman hesitated. She was nervous enough, still expecting the feminine creature at her side to turn on her at any second. "The part where you kidnapped us isn't really working in your favor, if that's your goal."

Rather than strike her, Nighean chuckled. "Mayhap not, yet I fear it was necessary." The hall opened to a large room with smashed specimen tubes strewn about the area. The tubes were filled with strange, chimeral creations, though nothing seemed a threat. The cultists reported to Heartsnatcher before the Roegadyn turned to the pair.

"Nothin' ta stand in yer way, m'lady!" he said with a nod.

Nighean nodded. "Tis most appreciated, Lord Heartsnatcher. I should think this will take a moment, so a few to watch over the entrances, and the others to rest until they switch."

Lord Heartsnatcher grinned. "Aye, 'at'll do, m'lady." He turned to gather the cultist and issue his orders. Nighean looked to the woman.

"Pray tell me your name."

"Eh? Tara." the woman replied, furrowing her brow up at Nighean. "Look, no offense, but can we get this over with?"

Nighean nodded. "Very well, Miss Tara. Pray find a terminal, and see to its operation." A vial of blended plant matter appeared in her hand. "Tis my goal to analyze the contents of this vial, and query the system for records which relate to it."

Tara nodded, and set about her task.

A few bells went by before Lord Heartsnatcher approached the pair. "Beggin' yer pardon, m'lady, but...."

Nighean cut him off with a raised hand as she watched Tara work. "You wonder: Should I not know already how to operate this? Should I not have gained the knowledge through Esoterica? And should it not be so, why not turn to one of our own?" Her gaze drifted to the Roegadyn.

He nodded. "Aye, m'lady."

Nighean shook her head. "Long ago was I here, and long ago did the systems come to know me. Those parts connected with the systems that remember will reject my query. Those not connected with such have not the information we need."

The Roegadyn rubbed his chin in thought. "Aye. I s'pose 'at makes sense. But then, wa’t of our own? Why not one o’ them?"

“My taint upon them may yet be recognized by the system.” Nighean answered simply, then looked back at Tara as the woman closed up the derelict terminal and turned it on. Heartsnatcher grinned. "Oy! Excellent work, lass! Wot was wrong wit' it?"

"Power was disconnected," came the reply.

"Wot?"

"It had nothing give it energy."

"It took ya that long ta figure 'at out?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "You think you could have done better?" She held out her hand to Nighean, making a grabby motion. The voidsent chuckled, and set the vial in Tara's waiting hand.

"Well...no, 'spose not," Heartsnatcher replied, realizing he didn't have the foggiest idea how even the simple magitek put out by Ironworks functioned.

The terminal's lens projected a floating, holographic interface, and Tara studied it for a moment before poking at it methodically. "Please identify this sample," she stated clearly, holding the vial out to it. As the other cultists began to watch, curiously, a separate light from the terminal focused on and enveloped the vial, causing it to float out of Tara's hand. It beeped quietly for a bit before returning the vial to the woman.

"Searching, Searching. Match found. Substance identified as 'Aetherochemical Substance V-1632-GE' with unknown flora contaminants."

Tara looked back to Nighean and Heartsnatcher. Nighean mouthed something, and Tara looked back to the device. "What's Aetherochemical Substance V-16...3...?” She paused. The terminal beeped at her.

"Please restate query."

Tara shook her head. "What is the previously identified substance?"

The terminal beeped. "Standby. 'Aetherochemical Substance V-1632-GE' was created by Team Leader Paion with the assistance of co-leader Adrasteia." Nighean laughed at the mention of Paion, then gave pause at the second name, her usual confident smirk vanishing. The name made her mind itch, though she couldn’t figure out why.

The terminal continued: "V-1632-GE is an experimental cleaner for aetheric corruption common to creatures of the World of Darkness. Note: the substance has not been approved for mass production, however, and the line was not continued."

Heartsnatcher asked, "Oy! Why not?"

"Clarify," the terminal responded. "Would you like to know why it was not approved, or why the line was not continued?"

"Both," Tara answered, curious. A cleanser for void corruption was worth pursuing, and it wouldn’t make sense to just toss it aside.

Beep. "Though the reaction can be sustained theoretically indefinitely, the cleansed aether remains in the solution until it is drawn out, resulting in temporary suspension of the reaction. Though there exist means to draw the aether out, methods which draw it out fast enough to allow for practical application have proven to be dangerous."

Heartsnatcher looked to Nighean. "'At wot happened ta yer servants in La Noscea?" Nighean nodded in response.

The terminal continued, unconcerned with Heartsnatcher's question. "The experiment line was not continued due to the sudden unavailability of Paion's team."

"What happened to them?" Tara asked, starting to wonder if the substance in her hand was toxic to her. Before the terminal responded, Heartsnatcher asked Nighean, "T'ink this has ta do wit ya?" Again, Nighean nodded, smirking lightly.

Beep. "Searching. Searching. Searching. Searching. Detailed information limited due to data corruption. Summary: All team members dead or missing."

"What happened to them?" Tara asked.

Beep. "Detailed information regarding this matter is limited due to data corruption. Cross referencing with team member biographies. Data has been manually added by Paion regarding the disposition of team members Adrasteia, Bethzatha, and Iaret. Each are listed as 'deceased' according to this data. Cause of death is suicide."

Nighean tilted her head. Lord Heartsnatcher asked her, "Doesn' match up wit yer mem'ries, does it, m'lady?" Nighean nodded in agreement, but seemed unconcerned. Tara looked back at the two of them, then at the substance in her hand, then at the Terminal.

"Is there evidence to verify this?" Tara asked.

Beep. "Analyzing available records. Standby. Standby. Standby. Analysis complete. Physical and recorded evidence are available, however incomplete. Independent review may be required to verify Paion's entries. Would you like to proceed with the review?"

"Aye," Heartsnatcher said.

"Yes," Tara spoke at the same time.

Nighean said nothing, folding her arms, a smirk returning to her lips. The terminal beeped at them, and stated, "Note: These recordings have been automatically selected, and may be irrelevant and-or incomplete. Compiling. Standby." Even for Nighean, it seemed to take the system a long time to compile the data, though this was far from due to the actual passage of time, which was mere minutes. "Compilation complete. Projecting"

As the scene materialized in the air before them, two hyur - a man and a woman with greying hair - could be viewed. He had eyes of soft blue, and her eyes, at first, appeared a curious shade of amber. Closer inspection would reveal her right eye's iris was a flat black. Both were dressed in the garb of Allagan researchers, and stood tensely in a hallway. The man's arms were folded, face stern. "He volunteered."

"Do not speak such lies to me!" she replied, upset. She stared at him, scrutinizing him.

"Oi, she talks like you," Heartsnatcher mutters. Nighean shushed him, focused on the scene.

The man in the recording threw up his arms in exasperation. "Fine, he didn't!" With a grunt, he continued. "But I've told you. Until we reestablish contact with the ground, sacrifices have to be made if we are to make progress!"

She shook her head. "Paion, can you not see the reality you face? Those who left had the right of it! The Empire is gone!"

He scoffed. "Since when did you care about the Empire? You always pursued the research for its own sake."

"Truly do I wish to see our research bear fruit, yet I am not blind to reality! We are done, volunteers or no!"

He reached out to brush her hair from her face. "If you truly think that way, then please leave, my love...but I'm staying. I won't let this go to w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-" He was cut off as the scene stuttered and vanished.

The terminal beeped. "Data of the remaining scene is missing. Skipping."

When the images returned, the woman from earlier sat at the end of a bed in a small room. She was contemplating some manner of tool in her hand which resembled a cross between a syringe and a handgun. She didn't spend long on it before pressing the tip to her arm and pulling the trigger. She winced as the syringe instantly emptied, but for a moment, nothing else seemed to happen. Then she grimaced, clutching at her chest and falling to the ground in clear pain. Once more, the scene vanished.

Again, the terminal beeped. "Data of the remaining scene is missing. Skipping."

"I guess she did commit suicide...assuming that was Adrasteia," Tara commented. "But it looks like she didn't m- Oh, here we go."

The same scene returned, but the room was in disarray, furniture knocked about. A feminine figure stood in a shaded corner as Paion - the man from earlier - approached. "Adra? Is that you?" Though his expression was calm, there was fear in his voice.

"Tis indeed," she replied. Her tone was calm, yet her voice had an unnatural quality to it. The cultists looked to Nighean. The voice was terribly similar to the voidsent's own.

"What...what have you done?" Paion asked on the recording.

She stepped out of the shadows. It was the same woman from before, but her clothes were torn and singed, doing little to hide her beautifully twisted form. Patches of scales streaked across her body, and a quartet of under-developed horns sprouted from beneath her hair. Paion backed away, frightened.

"I have taken control of my fate." As the woman on the recording spoke this, Nighean's eyes went wide, and she took a step backward.

"Data of the remaining scene is missing. Skipping."

"No! Halt! Cease playback!" Nighean suddenly called out.

"Recognized banned user. Command rejected." Nighean stared as the recording resumed, unrelenting. Neither Heartsnatcher nor Tara requested it to stop. She could have blasted the terminal, but something stayed her hand.

The new scene took place in a lab of some sort. Paion was thrown into view, crashing through the equipment. He grunted, and moved to his feet with effort. The twisted woman he'd called 'Adra' earlier approached from that direction. As she loomed over him, his eyes darted around the lab, resting on a staff nearby before looking to her. "Please stop this! You're destroying everything we've done!"

"We shall be your slaves no longer, Paion." was her reply.

"I...what was I to do?! You...you made yourself into one of those creatures! I couldn't simply let you roam free!" He reached for the staff, but she lashed out with swiftly moving talons, slicing through the table it rested on.

"YOU HAD FORCED MY HAND!" she screamed as he jumped away, now backed into a corner. Her talons retracted, and she looked over her hand before her eyes snapped to him once more. "Pray speak honestly. How long would you have assured me everything was to work out for the best? How long ere I was made another 'volunteer’?” She laughed scornfully.

"It...it wouldn't have happened! Adrasteia...I loved you." Tears welled up in his eyes.

Adrasteia sneered. "Twas your research you loved. Admit the truth: you restrained me out of jealousy. Jealous that I succeeded where you failed." She backed him against the wall, then grabbed his arms and lifted him, amber eyes glowing hellishly.

"Please, Adra! The...The process...it has made you paranoid! The subjects have always been psychologically unstable! Let me help you!"

She laughed scornfully. "You think me paranoid? My mind has never been so clear. Yet I shall not reject your offer." She moved to lock her lips with his, whispering, "You will help me. Your aether will empower and susta- ARGH!"

With a cry, she dropped him, back arched in pain as an assault came from behind. Suppression units had entered the lab and were firing at her. As she recoiled, they lashed out with mechanical ropes, trying to restrain her. Talons swiftly extended, she sliced through them. With her focus now off him, Paion grabbed the staff. He spoke arcane words, and aether swirled from it, forming into a dark gate.

"Adrasteia tis Diafthoras, I rebuke thee in the name of Hydaelyn! Through your sins you have made yourself an enemy of this star and all life upon it! You have become a wretched creature of the Dark! I banish you forthwith through this gate and to your new home! Be gone from this world!"

She screeched in anger, struggling against the aetheric binds as they dragged her through the gate.

The scene vanished once more.

"End of compilation. Note: Automatic analysis suggests Adrasteia's death has been misreported. The system suggests that her status be changed to 'missing'."

As the recording stopped, everyone in the area was quiet. Tara looked around at all them, puzzled, clearly missing some key information. The voidsent woman looked uncharacteristically stunned, if not outright frightened. Lord Heartsnatcher broke the silence.

"So...we know her true and proper name, then," he spoke with a somewhat sinister tone. Nighean looked to him sharply, but before she could say or do anything, two of the cultists sprang forward, staves held forward. Before they could even get a few syllables out, Nighean stretched forth with her talons and sliced one to ribbons. She was not fast enough for the other, however.

"Adrasteia tis Diafthoras, stop in place and heed my command!" the cultist ordered.

Nighean froze, then turned to the cultist, hatred in her eyes. "DARE you use my name against me?! Dare you after aught that I have done for you?!" Her voice had power behind it, but it was undirected. The cultist quaked. "WELL?!"

Lord Heartsnatcher chuckled, and looked back at the frightened man. "Go on, lad. Ya got the false Lady's ear, then." Nighean's eyes turned to Heartsnatcher, the burning hatred there focused on him. Still, she seemed unable to act.“Our true Lady bid us ask her a question, did she not?”

The cultist swallowed and spoke clearly, "I command you to tell us the truth: Who was responsible for the attacks on the Mirrors of Adrasteia and their servants?"

Nighean growled, her visage becoming harsher by the second. "I was."

At that admission, everything - event ambien noises - went silent. It was as though the sound was snuffed out like a candlelight. When it returned, another woman - the spitting image of Nighean, though seeming as an eastern noblewoman by her dress - entered. The cultist pointed his staff at the new one, but Heartsnatcher held his hand up. "M'lady. My true lady," he spoke, kneeling before her. "We have done as you asked."

"Esoterica," the first Nighean growled.

"Melodia," she second replied calmly, nodding to her counterpart in greeting. "Truly do I think we should have a word."

"Think you that these treacherous worms will not use our name against you in time?" Nighean Melodia asked. Nighean Esoterica tilted her head.

"You were want to promise them a family. Twas I who offered them what they craved: Power." Lord Heartsnatcher grinned at Esoterica's words. His grin didn't last long, however, as Esoterica continued. "Yet, unlike you, I was never want to trust any mortal."

"Eh?" Heartsnatcher grunted, before the realization struck him and he bellowed, "Bind her!"

The staff-wielding cultist found himself unable to speak the words, already silenced by Esoterica’s magic. Esoterica waved her hand dismissively, not taking her eyes from Nighean Melodia. The simple gesture begat horrific movements of power, and cultist began screaming. Their expressions wrenched into agony and horror as they melted into piles of flesh, cloth, and bone.

"By the twelve!" Tara shrieked, pushing up against the wall behind her.

Esoterica looked to the woman. "How curious...you are not sworn to us." She looked to Melodia. "We had those among us that might solve the problems of Allag tech, and yet you bring her? Mayhap you did not trust Heartsnatcher after all. Most proud I am of you, Melodia, that you would consider such a possibility and plan around it. Ah...truly would this have been an enjoyable game, had I known we were playing."

Esoterica looked back to the woman, and waved her away. "Go. Your freedom was promised, and I am not want to break our deals, whether made by myself or...my other self." At this last bit, she looked to Melodia. Tara was frozen by terror until Esoterica looked to her and bellowed, "GO!". With that, Tara fled from the area before the creature changed her mind.

Esoterica grabbed her counterpart’s hand, teleporting them away as she said, “Again, Melodia...we need to talk.”

#short #nighean dorcha

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