childrenofbahamutlogs | EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

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EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

A CRASH IN THE NIGHT

In the dark hours of a snowy early morning, a sudden BOOM can be heard all across Town. It is swiftly followed by sounds of warping metal and then a screeching crash. Curious, albeit groggy, residents emerge only to find a smoking wreck just a mile outside of Town.

The strange craft appears to be almost nautiloid in shape with wrenched, broken tendrils streaming out the opening.

Much of it is metal although some of it almost seems... organic.

Those who with to get a closer look will be met by Charlie and Dimitri who are already on the job. They request curious onlookers keep their distance since this craft is, without a doubt, tremendously dangerous.

Later in the day, there appears to be an outfit of officials coming from the west to investigate and clean up the wreckage. Thankfully(?), you will all find out soon enough what's going on.

INVESTIGATION & PROTECTION

Deathcard Cabin by Jonah Senzel

4:07 / 13:06

▶︎

Click here to listen.

From the Inscryption OST: A unique and haunting sound paired with a unique and haunting game.

code

Charlie reports to the citizens of Town that an Illithid cargo transport. The pilot did not survive the crash, but they appeared to be transporting some kind of new breed of Intellect Devourers.

"We do not yet know what this new breed is capable of, but..."

Charlie does give everyone a rundown of what an Illithid and what an Intellect Devourer is, what they are capable of, and a keen warning to tread lightly. Many dead ones were discovered in the cargo but several of the enclosures were damaged in the crash and the likelihood of escapees is high.

Charlie reiterates: These creatures are to be killed on sight, or contained until someone can kill it. If you are not confident in your combat abilities, please remain in your homes as much as possible and seal all openings to your dwelling. Those who are capable though are urged to begin patrols of Town alongside Slayd, Dimitri and himself to ensure that Town and the surrounding areas are safe.

Please travel in pairs or groups, do not be alone! Attack from a distance when possible. Hoshiko will offer her assistance as a markswoman as well by picking off any Intellect Devourers from a distance that she can for those that are forced to travel alone. (Don't worry about any jokes she makes of her service not being cheap though. Charlie wouldn't actually let her charge you anything.)

Unfortunately, not even they can predict the blizzard that rolls through Town in the midst of all this. If you happen to see anything skittering through the snow, don't panic too much. It could just be a tiny woodland creature looking for a warm burrow to hide away in!

At least you hope it is.

PROMPT #3

Hybrid intellect devourers are unique from the regular ones in that the goal is not to kill their target, but to gather intelligence and act as a kind of spy network.

They will flee when confronted directly by greater numbers, but will attack a lone target. They do this by jumping at the target's head and wrapping a wet tendril around their neck. They will choke who they've wrapped around if anyone tries to remove it. They are also far more likely to try and attack sleeping target (hence the advice to keep your homes closed!).

These hybrids emit spores that will keep the target asleep during feeding. Their primary goal appears to be infiltrating the targets' minds and absorbing some of their memories. The target will have their mind left mostly intact... though they may suffer short term memory loss, confusion, distress, fatigue and head pain.

Here's where the fun starts!

Once one of these critters has fed on someone, they are onto their next target. When a fed Intellect Devourer feeds from another target, that target may absorb some of the previous target's memories. This can span across multiple victims and be erratic in whose memories taint whose mind. The memories will cross-pollinate in the form of dreams or waking visions and hallucinations.

If one of these creatures is killed, it will explode, releasing a powerful psionic wave and the memories it had absorbed from any recent targets. Anyone within ten (10) yards of the dying creature will be afflicted with extreme head pain in the short term and also witness the memories of it's previous victims.

Enjoy your muddled memories and leggy brain-hunting!

The outfit of people who have come to investigate are from New Svihelen's disaster containment squad and are investigating the hybrid creatures and the possible reason for an Illithid ship to crash here of all places. Right now, the running theory is that interference from the selfsame summoning circle that brought you all here could have caused the interplanar navigation systems of the ship to malfunction but nothing has been determined yet.

Eventually, these creatures will all be rounded up and taken care of. They are persistent and stealthy though in their efforts to survive above all else. Charlie assures that they're doing all they can to make Town safe once and for all but it will take some time.

Notes

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i. duetting solo

The cold reminds him of a few places he's experienced in the past, though none come so close to the awful chill of Garlemald. This is true even now; despite all of the snow, it's just familiar territory for someone whose home was once the Skatay Range. Hunting through it is a second instinct, even if the quarry is certainly different than usual.

"It's going to be a blanket of white if this snow keeps up," Fray warns in a soft growl.

"Then it's a good thing I'm never alone when I've got you," Obsidian muses, cracking a fanged smile. "I know you've got my back, aye?"

A soft huff from his esteem. "I suppose you won't get that many people who know this kind of land as you and I do."

"That's the spirit." There's a pause from Obsidian, and his ears twitch, swiveling in your direction before the Warrior of Light is glancing your way. "It's dangerous to be out here by yourself. Are you all right?"

After all, Obsidian isn't technically alone, so it's fine. It's cool.

ii. memoria

In the end, the Warrior of Light's strength will always come from his truest comrades. To venture alone is a fool's errand, even with Fray ever at his side. Eventually, out in the worst of the blizzard and defying the odds, he gets unlucky. An Intellect Devourer does manage to sink its grasp onto him, causing Obsidian to collapse in the snow.

"Shite," Fray hisses, black mist rising from his form, his blade disintegrating from his hand. The echoing sound of chains rattle as he begins to lose his corporeal appearance, draining away as Obsidian goes unconscious.

So he stumbles toward you, calling out: "Help him."

When you do, the resulting memory begins in blinding Light.

iii. wildcard & notes

[Please feel free to make your own prompt! On prompt II, unless you have a specific memory you would like, I will randomize the memory you receive from Obsidian.]

Working with other people can be at least some help for Mithrun's atrocious navigational skills - but that only takes him so far. Once separated, there's little chance of him tracing his steps back to his companion - to say nothing of tracking them down if they've moved.

And that's without the weather obscuring his vision.

At least, as Mithrun wanders in a randomly-picked direction, Obsidian's hair color and his and Fray's choices of fashion make them relatively easy to pick out in the white static surrounding them both.

Mithrun nods, his wings flicking reflexively to knock the gathered snow off of them. He does no such thing about what's collected on his shoulders and in his hair. "I'm fine. Have you found anything?"

Huh. It's a bit strange to see Mithrun without Angeal, at least it seems odd to Obsidian. That whole relationship chart is too complicated for his himbo mind. In any case, he is genuinely glad to see the elf is safe. "Just a couple of stray ones. Didn't think they'd end up looking like that, brains on legs. Wish I could say it was the most disturbing thing I've seen."

Fray shrugs. "Difficult to see much in this weather, and it's bound to get worse. You should know better than to be on your own, Mithrun."

"Mm-hm. They don't resemble anything I know of in my world, either."

The "I know of" is important. For all he knows, some dungeon lord somewhere had a labyrinth absolutely packed with legged brains.

His gaze shifts to Fray, flat as ever. "I wasn't, until recently. Poor visibility will do that."

He's gathered the man(?) has some kind of problem with him, but he still isn't sure what it is... or whether Fray just has a problem with everyone, by default. That seems possible.

At least, no matter the case, Mithrun himself isn't too bothered. "If it's of such concern, I can work with you two until we find someone."

Or he loses track of them, too. One of those.

A swell of molten rage pulses through his veins the instant Themis turns the corner and beholds the situation. Obsidian, his friend, one he loves - and, hells, Fray. If the sight alone were not enough, Fray's pleading would have undone him.

And so it is with no thought to himself that Themis leaps forward and cleaves the Intellect Devourer in half with with his sword. Before the memory overtakes him, he reaches for Obsidian with hands and wings.

Feathers and fingers just barely brush skin before the light consumes him.

This section of Living Memory is still lit and full of deceptive life, citizens milling about and enjoying themselves. Living Memory doesn't smell like anything, doesn't taste like anything. It just is, and all of it uncomfortable. A reminder of what Obsidian himself had once attempted what feels like long ago, so privately.

Obsidian settles into the gondola across from G'raha Tia, and somehow Elidibus manages to be in the boat with them as well, even if Obsidian doesn't react to him right away.

It is a beautiful sight to see, this part of Living Memory. Even if it still unsettles him to his core, there is something bittersweet about seeing the couple he helped reunite waving to him. With a faint smile, Obsidian raises a hand while G'raha waves on fully.

"Do you remember what I said to you before all this?" G'raha asks softly, lowering his arm before looking at Obsidian. "That life is a series of journeys. That you must be true to yourself, for indeed, there's no telling what awaits."

He remembers. Of course he does. Obsidian puts forth everything in trying to remember what his beloved friends say to him.

Glancing to the golden colors of the digital horizon, G'raha continues, "I don't know about you, but I certainly didn't expect to behold such sights. The future is as fluid as the water beneath us, truly." The smile fades. "Tell me, my friend. Have you ever wished to be reunited with someone who passed away?"

Of course he does. He still does. After all this time, to the point that it was so painful that his soul stone broke in two. That the grief he created looked like a meld of Ysayle and Haurchefant. That the being he made tried to do the very thing that Sphene is doing now. But the words don't rise to Obsidian's throat; instead, he looks tense, unable to answer.

Everyone thinks so highly of him. Everyone thinks he could do no wrong. How could he say it? And to know how much he, alas, relates to Sphene so much?

He says nothing, as he usually does, simply listening. Unable to share the burden of his heart and soul.

Much like Obsidian, Themis watches.

This place is akin to a perverse attempt at replicating an eternal Aetherial Sea, one that is powered by the yet-living energies of those who may yet live. A desperate attempt to hold fast to those who have been lost. Themis would not wish for his memory to remain at the expense of others. He would rather live on in the memories of others, in those he loved, than be extracted and held in this place. He would rather fade in time, and be reborn anew.

He watches as G'raha Tia speaks to Obsidian. As he asks a painful question that any with perception already knows the answer to - but that is just it. If any know the answer to that question, it is G'raha Tia, and if any possess the same answer, it, too, would be him. Through time and space he had traveled, after all, to do such a thing. He knows.

Themis does not have eyes for anyone else now but Obsidian. Unable to help himself, he tries to reach out and hold fast to his hand.

As a native Ul'dahn, Aisthota's never been a fan of snow. With that in mind, going out in a blizzard like this is definitely among the stupidest things she's ever done. She can practically hear the other Scions giving her an earful for the reckless heroism. Look, it's fine, her instincts are telling her she should be out here and they have never--they have rarely steered her wrong.

The new voice in her head thinks that's absolute nonsense, but Aisthota's ignoring it.

And the spooky disappearing cry for help just further confirms for her that listening to her instincts was the right thing to do! Her aim with her chakrams is true enough that she can dispatch the intellect devourer without any worry of harming the viera that it's munching on, but she's not prepared for what follows.

"Welcome to Rhon Ron's, traveler! I have wares to empty your purse and fill your belly! Take your time! Stare and sniff before you choose! But no drooling on the merchandise, yes?"

It is a familiar merchant's town that Aisthota should be familiar with; the old red bricks and humble bustling of Mord Souq. Before Obsidian is one of the mord, Rhon Ron himself ready to peddle his food.

And Obsidian is terrible about knowing when to quit, like any good Warrior of Light.

Everything is a bit unconventional in terms of snacks, but that's never deterred his curiosity. Tilting his head, Obsidian looks down at the pile of marbled red meat.

"That's my Everburning Bounty, made with the best parts of the lizard. Cured with special spicy spices! Some find the smell... challenging, but it'll warm you up on chilly desert nights!"

Obsidian folds his arms. "That one, then."

"Ah yes! Put some spice in your step! You won't feel the cold this night... and probably not the next one either! You have the gold...?"

With a nod, the viera hands over the coin.

"And done!" Rhon Ron cheers. "One Voeburtite honor buys you ten sides of lizard meat!"

Ten sides. Obsidian has had hearty meals before, but ten sides. Closing his eyes a moment, he steels himself before he takes in a breath.

He won't be defeated by food.

So he gets to eating.

Aisthota thinks it's her own memory at first. It's certainly close enough to one. And gods know she could absolutely go for ten servings of everburning bounty right now. But the details don't quite match up and when the memory passes, she's just left feeling confused. And hungry. And cold.

But no matter how much she would rather be in Ahm Araeng right now, that's not the point! Somebody's hurt! So despite her pounding headache, she gets back to her feet and trudges through the snow to the fallen viera.

"Hey! Are you alright?"

One could raise many questions about the fact that Obsidian isn't Technically (tm) alone, and Angeal certainly will as he takes in the two figures standing off in the snow. Around him, that same snow melts slightly, only to turn to ice immediately in the trail he makes as the blizzard reclaims the temperature once more. Being a gold dragon with such a natural heater does have its perks, but he'll feel a bit bad when things calm down a bit. Ice is no joke, especially hidden under the snow.

Later, for now, he's... starting to recognize the figure at Obsidian's side, one eyebrow raised. "I'll be fine, apparently Hoshiko is watching over me while I make a quick run to some one."

...Fuck it. Angeal does a sharp little swipe-down point to Fray. "Valentine?"

There is danger in what Lahabrea is doing, that he cannot deny. But compared to the Final Days he is not particularly worried. He yet has full control over his magic, and though the falling snow is frustrating, it's not like he doesn't have more than his share of experience in dealing with dangerous monsters. Even if he is not particularly familiar with these monsters.

"You need not fear for my sake."

He can defend himself more than well enough, if need be.

It isn't that Obsidian is ungrateful for Haurchefant and his generosity. Quite the opposite; he's ever been the sole warmth in Ishgard despite its distrusting inhabitants, and the knight has made his loyalty ever clear time and again. In the same way, Obsidian is glad to keep Alphinaud and Tataru with him and safe, away from everything in Ul'dah.

Ul'dah. Once upon a time, the perpetual heat from Thanalan was novel, the striking opposite to the Skatay Range. Being suspected as a traitor from Jenlyns had hurt, but that had been resolved. To be suspected again from the remaining Sultansword made him bitter after watching the remaining Scions stay behind to slow down their pursuers. All of that effort he'd put into the Realm, wasted. It infuriated him.

Honestly, he'd thought about throwing the Paladin stone away; he clutches it even now in his hand, gritting his teeth, anger in his heart.

"After witnessing such a spectacle, everyday life seems rather dull in comparison..." he hears an Ishgardian noble muse to himself.

Obsidian's ears twitch, and he turns his head. "What was that now?"

"Hm? So you didn't see that trial earlier?" The noble's brows raise. "Ah, your loss. Fury take me, the way that heretic swung that slab of iron he called a sword was a sight to behold!" A chuckle. "He couldn't have carried a shield like yours if he wanted to, the blade was so big. Had to keep two hands on it at all times! I was amazed he was able to keep up with that Temple Knight for as long as he did. Fought like a demon from the deepest pits of the seventh hell, bellowing threats and working his arts. I wasn't sure what to make of it at first, but then I heard someone say he was a Dark Knight."

Byleth has shared a body before. This is new though, and he wonders briefly, after realizing this is not his own, if this is how Sothis felt? He's aware someone is talking to him. He feels his ear twitch and his head turn. He feels a fury in his heart. A deep, smoldering resentment not his own.

There is a man prattling on, and inherently, he understands the context somehow. Of course. The damned Temple Knights. He seems to have tentative control of this body.

Looking down, he realizes.

Ah. How could he mistake this... view. He is in Obsidian's body somehow? How queer. He accepts it far more easily than most might expect. Though there is some dull surprise and confusion, this is hardly the strangest thing to happen to him. He will see how this shakes out.

Why did you become an adventurer?

The old merchant's voice rings in, the answers far from satisfaction. He could say glory, wealth, or power -- but the truth of it is that all Obsidian sought after was the freedom of his own choice. To carve out his own path for once. It didn't matter what he said, the truth was in his heart as he looked at a pair of young elezen twins that he did not yet know would become some of his most precious comrades. More family than family he'd ever had.

The journey to protect the Realm would be perilous. Easier with friends, even if often Obsidian was forced to fight on his own due to the power of the Echo, his Blessing of Light keeping him from becoming tempered. Thus did he face each Primal with all of his might when no other could; the scorching flames of Ifrit, piercing winds of Garuda, the very earth under his feet betrayed through the power of Titan, and the brine of the ocean commanded by Leviathin. Nothing would prepare Obsidian to be forced to carry the cadavers of his fellow Scions to be buried after the Garlean attack upon the Waking Sands, but neither would he stop pressing on.

No, not even facing off against Gaius himself, the Ultima Weapon, or Lahabrea would stop him. Not Ramuh's test, not Shiva's vision, or even the Bloody Banquet for all of its weight would press onto him.

Do not despair! You are not without allies.

The Dragonsong War would have been all the more difficult without the warmth of Haurchefant's companionship, a candlelight in the frigid reception of Ishgard. Enough warmth to make his heart stir, but remember to hold back. There was, after all, war to be considered as well as attempting to clear the names of the Scions as well as Raubahn. He would wait, surely, until the end of the war to reveal the truth. Yet first, he would travel with Alphinaud, Ysayle, and Estinien in an attempt to persuade the dragons into peace instead of continuing bloodshed. Hresvelgr's pain and lament would prevent him from agreement, too steeped in his bitterness to think of raising a claw to his brood brother.

Nonetheless, truths would be revealed unto them, particularly after Obsidian succeeds with Estinien to slay Nidhogg. Truths that the Holy See would not permit to be told, despite Aymeric's efforts.

Oh, do not look at me so.

Obsidian would promise to crush Zephirin's heart in his grasp in the name of his broken one. He would not rest, not stop until he would have his own revenge. A tale as old as any, echoing from the source of the Dragonsong War itself. Nothing would stop him, and the pain would remain. Oh, of course there would be some joy in reuniting with Y'shtola and the others, but the loss of both Haurchefant and Ysayle harden him considerably. Woe betide the man who stands opposed to the Weapon of Light, for death will be his reward. Death for him and his kin and all that he holds dear. Woe betide the man who stands with the Weapon of Light, for death will be his reward. Death for him and his kin and all that he holds dear.

It is no less true for Minfilia, who chooses to go with the strangers of another star, the Warriors of Darkness. Something so raw from the hyur warrior would remain in Obsidian's soul, the anguish.

We did everything right! And still...!

Still, war does not relinquish, even at its end. For though there is the conclusion of the Dragonsong War, there is another to contend with through a storm of blood. For Ala Mhigo, for Doma. The strange and alien cruelty that is Zenos yae Galvus. The all too familiar spite and hatred that Yotsuyu carries in her heart. The steely determination of Fordola.

And he sees far too much of himself in Tsukuyomi. In Yotsuyu.

What's the matter? The witch of Doma will soon be dead.

Yet it is not a thing to be celebrated. It is bittersweet at best, the wish to undo a past already done and unable to do anything but move forward. To march on unwavering. Whatever else could he do?

Even in the face of his closest companions collapsing one by one before his very eyes, a voice calling them away. It infuriates him what little he can do, and the last to fall is Alisaie, who he had promised to not abandon. Still, she is gone, and once again he cannot undo what has been done, until his conversation with the strange hooded man.

To another star he would go, a land forced into everlasting Light for the past century. It is stagnant, full of beings known as Sin Eaters. The Crystal Exarch seems sincere in his desire to aid Norvrandt in its recovery. So instead of being a Warrior of Light, he takes to becoming the Warrior of Darkness in order to bring back the sunless sea. Who better than a Dark Knight, he thinks to himself. The Blessing of Light and his natural inclination to using Darkness should serve him well.

And he is not alone. No, it isn't just Fray who keeps to his side, but now there is also Ardbert.

For a time, all of it holds. The night sky returns for many a region, a sense of normalcy in the face of what once felt impossible to fight. For a time, even Emet-Selch seems almost hopeful of something that Obsidian does not comprehend. Even if it ends in misery and disappointment as ever, and Obsidian's soul barely holding to the seams and an old friend stolen away. The truth of the Ascians and their goal is revealed, and they can all agree that if the situation was reversed, would they do any different? Surely not. What is it like to miss your home for thousands upon thousands of lifetimes, fighting to try to bring it all back?

Yet, to protect what is dear to them, conflict is inevitable despite attempts to do otherwise. Emet-Selch cannot be persuaded to stop, no more than Obsidian can lay down his blade. With Ardbert's aid, they hold the light long enough to unleash it upon the Ascian.

Remember us. Remember that we once lived.

And for all that memory seems to fail Elidibus, he cannot forget or forgive Obsidian's transgressions. In the battles to protect his friends and the very star, it also means he has slain many who were dear to the Emissary. Once again, an Ascian cannot be convinced to stand down. Once again, Obsidian must bring him to his end, trapped within a Crystal Tower.

For upon thy life's reel wind too many threads. Of fate. Power. Weal, enmeshed with woe. Admist this tangled knot, thou shalt know no rest.

The truth of the Final Days brims on the horizon through machinations of the unhinged Fandaniel and Zenos' blind desire for another impactful duel. There is a fight to bring respite for Garlemald, yet it will not stop Zenos' lust for battle, even if it means wrenching the Warrior of Light from his own body into a dead man's and taking the viera's body for his own, a crawling violation that cannot be given time to mend.

Eventually, Obsidian has no choice but to slay Zodiark, inevitably inviting the Song to Creation's End. What is the source of the End, and why? Answers that can only be found in the past, with old and new friends alike.

The inevitability of death holds on, and through despair all can become a Blasphemy, never reborn through the Lifestream, a true death. Yet, all along, it has ever been Hydaelyn's desire and plan to ensure their star and its people live on instead of fleeing into the dark expanse. To face despair itself and do battle with it, even chancing the possibility of his beloved comrades perishing for his sake.

Let's finish this.

A possibility he takes away, the moment it happens ever again. Ever still, he fights on, refusing despair's hold in the face of the Endsinger. Life is painful, life is beautiful anyway.

What indeed? Trust, love, security. It intermingles with family for Obsidian who has never felt it with his own kin. The people he's met across the star and beyond, even when it should be impossible. Rarely does he hold onto hate even when it is easy to do so. Even a voidsent can learn love and comradery.

The last path he takes is to aid young Wuk Lamat to take the throne, which she inevitably shares with her brother. It infuriates Obsidian how coldly the eldest brother treats them. Why can't he see he already has what almost everyone craves? Foolish, utterly foolish. Quickly to unforgivable for how he treats his own flesh and blood.

Eventually, the question becomes: can one defy death?

Death is not the end.

But all things die. All things must die for new life to be reborn. It is a question Obsidian has battled with himself before, and he would not sacrifice new life for the old. Death is inevitable, but that does not make it meaningless.

No, death is not the end. For it can be a new beginning. It simply shouldn't be a continuation. A difficult truth that he's had to accept time and again.

Never a time to dwell, only a time to keep walking, footfalls echoing after.

He's been privy to many a daemon's grotesque forms. Twisted, warped, oozing things that gnash with too many mouths, and hunt with too many eyes. Hides thickened by congealed miasma, or blazing with its light-eating glow. So these creatures, these ambling little brains, they don't ultimately phase him. They're not pleasant by any means, but he's fine keeping his distance, and lancing them with lightning like Ramuh's own spears. Between the power of his magitek and his breath weapon, it works well, avoiding any of the explosions of brain matter from the dying beasts.

Ravus has found himself nearly back-to-back with the viera, Obsidian, in this hunt. The man claims to know him in periphery. They shared another, distant world once, however briefly. Ravus had found him honest and brave, and so believed him despite the strangeness of the claim. It's not the weirdest thing to happen to him, after all.

They've been hunting these things for quite some time now, and it's inevitable that with their disturbing speed, one manages to get close enough that Ravus instinctively swings with his sword to dispatch it. He sends it splattering away, split betwixt the hemispheres that cradle a dorsal of slimy spikes, but the distance just isn't enough. The psionic shockwave from its death hits him with all the grace and blunt pain of a brick to the temples. Then, the aftershock of memories to rattle his skull. Memories, or a lifetime, it's hard to gauge - but there is an endless sea of despair that wells out from the images that flash before him.

Adventures and friendships, politics and betrayal, a war to end all wars, the screaming, writhing calls of the dead and dying. There's a familiarity to so much of it. He remembers the bodies of his family, his friends, smeared with ash and blood as the metallic gleam of imperial soldiers crushes underfoot all that he holds dear. Never did he carry the dead to rest though. They were forgotten to lies. He does not envy Obsidian's burden, either. Is it worse to remember or to pretend to forget?

Within his own heart, agony and outrage, to have every choice taken, to be forced to carry on despite the injustice. The wrath of gods, and Ravus bears his teeth specifically against the image of Leviathan, though the psionic image leaves him aboard a ship that rocks and reels with her wrath, and not the broken city of Altissia, of his sister's grave.

Every loss compounds the next, every failure to save beloved friends drives the blade a little deeper. Until he can feel his own heart ripping at the seams with it. Peeling apart desires for revenge, for justice in an unkind world, to make meaning of it all. To shed the shield that hides the bearer, and take up a blade so grand it cannot be mistaken for anything but a weapon of deliverance. It's oft a thankless thing, isn't it? To protect what is right, to do whatever is necessary. Forward, forward, always forward.

There is no time to grieve.

The world continues to turn, and there is ever more bloodshed. These lands he sees are foreign to him, but their fate is familiar. If he could stare down these Garlean monsters, he would see the same cold, dead-eyed faces of Niflheim. Again and again, cruelty and conquest like no other. The insatiable desire for more. To purge savages, beasts, the barely-human. Resistance is futile, but how can brave hearts lay down to die when there is hope yet still? Wherever they find that hope, Obsidian seems to lead the wake. Is it what he wants, though? Is it his choice?

Ravus doesn't get his answer before the next memory burns behind his eyes, and the light remains blinding. A cold, thoughtless expanse of stillness. A wave that crashes through, unfeeling of all that it sweeps away in a terrible maelstrom of white. A storm does not pity the drowned. And like his unseamed heart, one day, too, does that light split away to reveal a sky of brilliant stars laid upon a dark pall. It's a beautiful thing, he thinks briefly, before the pain returns. Blinding with more everlasting light. There's an incandescent fervor he cannot fathom, but doesn't need to. The memory fades again, the final hope of a dying star resting squarely on the shoulders of those left alive to inherit it.

Then suddenly there is the well itself, the very thing that the memories pool from. Dark pitch, as endless as the spaces between stars. And yet, there is something there, at the center. Ravus reaches for it, or rather, he feels Obsidian reach for it within the memory. Because at the bottom of the well, its endless despair, there is something else. And it shines so brightly it can be seen beneath those dark waters.

Hope. The light of belief, in the unfailing will of those so loved. The End isn’t truly the end. And so the memory goes on. Forward, ever forward. Exhausting as it is necessary. And only a brief reprieve from cataclysm.

It seems almost trivial in its wake, but there’s something about the next flash of a life he has not lived that leaves him snarling in pure rage. There is a family, and a contest, and there is an elder brother so blinded by his own self-pitying anger that he forsakes his own. Worse. Worse and worse still, the cost of life so great, and the heartbreak of a little sister. How could any older brother be so cruel? Perhaps to the world, Ravus might understand, but his own kin? Forsaking the bond Ravus’ entire life has revolved around, the gravity that has made his orbit around Lunafreya all he could ever know.

Once and forever, he’d been willing to burn down the whole world for his little sister. But to forsake her? To let his heart weigh heavier than hers? That is a crime he cannot forgive, and if he could have spit on Zoraal Ja’s corpse, he would have. But the memory is beginning to fade, and even while he glares death, time marches forward, ever forward.

Perhaps there is more, glimpses of a beautiful kingdom, and the digital recreation of its happiest memories, but his anger seems to finally quell the psionic storm in his mind. The memory fades into distortion, and finally, he’s back in his own mind.

For all that he saw, it’s only been a few seconds. Yet he’s been knocked down to one knee, his magitek arm bracing him up as he breathes hard through the anger. His jaw is so tense that it feels like he threatens to shatter his own molars, but as he inhales deep... the anger is replaced by concern.

He glances back over his shoulder, and lays eyes on the bearer of all those memories. The danger may have passed from the intellect devourers, that last one Ravus struck down among the fleeing scouts, but that’s not his concern. As the words form in his throat, one particular face from those memories comes to mind, and he feels himself echo her words in the same disbelief and anger.

“Obsidian,” he says, voice low with horror, with hurt, but never something has undignified as pity. “Those memories... what they did to you: the lies, the betrayal, the endless fighting...” Ravus shudders an exhalation, and shakes his head. No, Fordola had the answer already, and so does Ravus now, by proxy. For those we have lost. For those we can yet save. It’s a sentiment Ravus, too, has tried to live by. Misplaced in his anger, perhaps, but always held fast within his heart. No matter how it has fallen apart.

It almost feels stupid to ask, as he wobbles back onto his feet, sword hung limply in his hand.

“Are you all right?”

Slowly, Obsidian finds himself able to push up out of the snow, shaking is head of any remaining clumps. There's a pause when he hears Ravus' tone, his words, then the viera continues to get to his feet.

If he could undo it, he'd take it all back from Ravus. Hells, he'd have taken it from Fordola too if he could; neither of them should have to experience what he has. All that power. All that pain. She wasn't wrong, still isn't. Either way, there's no undoing it now.

A faint smile forms on his face, and he gives Ravus a friendly smack on his normal arm.

"Not always," Obsidian answers honestly. "Some days are better than others. You take the good with the bad, even if it seems like it goes more one way than the other."

It's dramatically simplifying it, but for all of the joys he has experienced, Obsidian wouldn't exchange it for anything.

"Are you all right?"

Ravus levels him with an almost unreadable expression. Something that might be concern, but also admiration. Who can say? What's a touch more clear is the fond exasperation as he sighs, and takes the clap on his arm without complaint.

"At least you are more honest than most. There are too many that would deny their hardships in favor of a brave, but false front." After witnessing what he has, the over simplification still plagues Ravus somewhat, but who is he to reprimand for boiling down the complex pains of life? Especially the life of a protector, someone made a weapon time and again. It's a grossly complicated thing to pick apart.

"I will be," Ravus says, and rubs his real hand at his temples, where the aching migraine still throbs in his skull. "The headache aside, I am no stranger to life's harsh realities, though I fear I do not face them with nearly the same grace."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

Obsidian Blackheart (WoL) | FFXIV

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ii. memoria

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I thought about it and decided memoria was the dumbest possible way for them to meet

don't worry i will make it stupider

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BYLETH

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RAVUS

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