[centre][img]http://i.imgur.com/vbnnTUq.png[/img]
[colour=ec008c][i]The Muse. Weaver of Dreams.[/i]

Might: 0
Free Point: 3[/colour]

&[/centre]

[centre][img]http://i.imgur.com/KtaFYg7.png[/img]
[colour=black][i][b]The Timeless One, The Celestial Above, Vicegerent of Fate, Guardian of the Timeline, Master of Creation, Lord of Time[/b][/i]
Level 3 God of Creation (Time)
0 Might 3 Freepoints[/colour]
 
[colour=black]***===***===***===***===***[/colour]
 
[hider=Summary]
The events of this post happen very shortly after the events of Belvast's birth, nearly 4,000 years before the banishing of TOBIA to Arcon

Vowzra pays Ilunabar a visit in Raka
His presence changes Raka - people who dream might now see 'visions' which act as predictions of what is to come or warnings [Vowzra's inherent powers used, no Might]
They create a lute from their essences and bodies
A demigod is born from it - The Bard
Vowzra takes The Bard to his personal plane

No Might Used

*The two poems used are 'O Fortuna' and 'Fortune plango vulnera' from the Carmina Burana, a medieval manuscript of 254 poems, many of which are now lost. The music is from Carl Orff's very famous adaptation.
**Inspired by Qur'anic verses 18:103-4, no offence intended to any Muslims[/hider][/centre]
 

[centre][h1][url=https://youtu.be/RXE28wPEt_c]O Fortuna*[/url][/h1]

[img]http://i.imgur.com/bZzHHcE.png[/img][/centre]

The Lord of Time was not one for misery. He has never thought himself a melancholic or tragic being, all emotions existed for a reason, all were Fated to feel one way or another at certain Times or others. But not him. He was not one for such things. It was for that very reason that he sat atop the Hexahedron Historicus Creato, staring into the skies of Chronos, wondering about the evident misery which was, without a doubt, running through him. He had identified the source the feeling long ago; he knew the wellspring of this sadness, guilt, shame...[i]fear.[/i] What he did not know was [i]why[/i] he felt this. [i]Why[/i] her eyes had driven a vast emptiness within his expansive breast, a most weighty, sweltering, painful, [i]frustrating[/i] emptiness.

With his wooden knee supporting his barken elbow upon which rested his chin and beard of leaves, he was the epitome of Le Penseur. He had no idea why her eyes had so affected him, where he had seen them before and whose accusing look it had been. Or perhaps they had always been Belru's eyes, accusing him before he ever sinned, and accusing him ever after. [i]But he had not sinned.[/i] He had done nothing wrong - Fate had Willed and he had obeyed, the Timeline had dictated and he had implemented. And yet shame burnt through him like Ull'Yang's undying fires.

He closed his obsidian eyes and tried to delve once more into his and Belruarc's joint memories. No matter how he tried, however, his own mind was sealed, and her memories of past lives revealed nothing about those Eyes which so haunted him. Nothing came to him; all he Saw was the emptiness of the void. It was the closest thing to a nightmare a being like Vowzra could have: to be utterly blind, unable to See. Even as a tinge of fear rose up within him once more, his ears heard something, and he Saw. In the deepest darkness of the void his closed Eyes Saw, there appeared a humanoid with long black hair and a red bandana around his head, and he wore flowing robes of red and white. Over his shoulder he had an enormous instrument, and the Lord of Time had the strangest impression that the instrument was sentient.

The man halted not too far away from the Guardian of the Timeline, and Vowzra heard once more those strange lines and that strange music that had not too long ago when he and Belruarc had allowed their essences to commingle.
[colour=olive][i]'O Fortuna,'[/i][/colour] came the long, deep, melodic sound, [colour=olive][i]'velut luna,'[/i][/colour] O Fortune, he was singing, Like the Moon.
[colour=olive][i]'Statu variabilis!'[/i][/colour] Ceaselessly Varying! 
[colour=olive][i]'Semper crescis,'[/i][/colour] Always Waxing.
[colour=olive][i]'Aut decrescis,'[/i][/colour] Ever Waning.
[colour=olive][i]'Vita detestabilis!'[/i][/colour] Detestible Life!
[colour=olive][i]'Nunc obdurat,'[/i][/colour] First Oppresses.
[colour=olive][i]'Et tunc curat,'[/i][/colour] And then Soothes.
[colour=olive][i]'Ludo mentis aciem!'[/i][/colour] As its Fancy takes it!
[colour=olive][i]'Egestatem!'[/i][/colour] Poverty!
[colour=olive][i]'Potestatem!'[/i][/colour] Authority!
[colour=olive][i]'Dissolvit ut glaciem!'[/i][/colour] It Melts like Ice Away!

[colour=olive][i]'Sors immanis!'[/i][/colour] at these words, the Vicegerant of Fate flung his eyes open in shock, but the music did not stop, and the poem grew ever more distressing to the god of Time. He willed the vision to depart, the sound to cease. But instead, his mind's Eye shifted its vision, and the Lord of Time Saw another. He Saw Ilunabar, and understanding dawned upon him.
[colour=black][i]'Great Fate, what dastard would this plane command?'[/i][/colour] and with that, the Lord of Time departed from Chronos and went in search of Ilunabar.

Ilunabar was casually dream watching as she travelled through the Raka. Lifprasilians were providing interesting views, and Galbar was doing a good number on Human, whose dreams were leaving Logos's comfort and embracing the weirdness of their surrounding. Another species, a Galbarian one as their concepts of nature denounced, had been having dreams almost as refined as the early Hain's, unfortunately, their numbers fell drastically thanks to Toun and what Ilunabar describe as "the ugly sea", luckily it would be easy to solve the problem, Zephyrion just had to hear about a certain sibling submerging half of his sculpting work.

The scheming, however, had to stop once an outstanding event started, Ilunabar felt a flow of energy far larger than what all the mortal minds had dreamed, it was something beyond, which was spiraling outside of the Raka itself, yet its mere existence had influenced dreams.Time manifested on all harmonics of the Arpeggio, the green arcadia where Ilunabar was twisted before her own eyes, the green blades of grass turning into ticking pointers, distant peaks turned into hourglass ranges and the twinkling sky turned into an intricate clockwork piece with its fake sun and stars dancing in it like a ballerina in a music box.

Then it stopped, the realm stopped ticking to the sound of clockwork and returned to its original concept. Ilunabar found such an event to be marvelous, somehow Vowzra had managed to do something close to dreaming and his energy interacted with the Raka, putting new strains on the muse's design, and it managed to stand pretty well, while one might see this as a foreigner force invading her sub-verse, Ilunabar saw it as an adaptation to deal with said energy. 

Barely had she started to muse about what all that meant, and yet again she noticed odd forces interacting with the Raka, this time however it was clear and solid, the deity itself had decided to visit the muse. Ilunabar quickly transformed the dream around her into something sightful for her brother, though with little time to design she had to be content with something as shabby as an infinite crystalline fractal tower surrounded by nebulae and auroras. 

She faced her sibling and with a gentle expression and said, [colour=ec008c][i]"Oh? I could not anticipate a sibling arriving here so soon, but with you being you, I should not be impressed that you found my little background noise in the Fabric of Existence. Welcome to the realm of dreams Lord of Time, I suggest that you stay within this humble dreams,"[/i][/colour] she raised her arm, showing the room of the tower where they were and its nearby lights, [colour=ec008c][i]"I do not know how other gods will interact with the direct flow of dreams, but considering that I myself almost got lost in a simulacrum, I'd say it's better to stay safe"[/i][/colour]

Standing with a smile and all of her cordiality, she waited for what explanation her sibling would have for the sudden intrusion into her property. Vowzra's onyx eyes surveyed Raka, attempting to pierce the plane with his Sight, but the dreamscape was ungraspable. In its scope, it was almost as boundless as Time itself. Ilunabar had created something most powerful indeed.
[colour=black][i]'I shall heed your warning, for Fate decrees it so,'[/i][/colour] his voice carried towards Ilunabar before taking a hazy form and galloping off to join the flow of dreams. [i]Fate decreed it so.[/i] He could not get the heinous words of the strange singer out of his mind, their blasphemous meaning scarred his mind. Fate is Monstrous, he had said. [colour=olive][i]'Et inanis,'[/i][/colour] Wholly Worthless. The very thought that someone could utter such profane verses with such conviction caused his leaves to stand on edge. They were world-breaking words.
[colour=black][i]'Shall I tell you who the greatest losers are?'[/i][/colour] the Lord of Time suddenly asked, [colour=black][i]'they are those who stray in word and action while convinced that they do good,**'[/i][/colour] his obsidian eyes fixated upon the storyteller, [colour=black][i]'those who defy Fate and endeavour towards their own inflated aspirations, believing that their Sight is greater than that of Fate, their path more correct and true. Those are the losers, but viler still are the ones who speak lies against Fate Most-Glorious. I am here by the command of Fate, and I must restrain just such a being, it must be ensured that the being we are Fated to create does not stray,'[/i][/colour] he knew that Ilunabar probably did not understand much of what he was saying, but she would understand soon enough.

Without further speech, the bark of his chest cracked down the middle, and he reached with both hands and wrenched it open. A high-pitched, horrific screech echoed through the fabric of the divine plane, and Vowzra's expansive breast was revealed: for within, the Lord of Time was not a finite being, he held inside him something vast and impossible. He reached into the Whirlpool of SpaceTime and pulled out a large piece of wood. It was not any wood, however - this was wood taken from his own being, from his physical body and divine essence. With the great chunk of wood out, Vowzra's chest sealed itself and he placed the piece on the ground before Ilunabar. She would know what to do, inspiration would strike, understanding would dawn; the Muse becomes the Artist.

[colour=black][i]'Do the Will of Fate, Divine Beauty,'[/i][/colour] he stated simply.

Somehow in the midst of the mess created between Vowzra view of things that had not even been seeded into reality and Ilunabar's ephemeral view of things that could not be there was some sort of understanding and as soon as the material was rested in front of her she started to craft something.

With her own fingers and the pressure of the whole realm of Raka, she started to mold the wood, cut it down to planks and pieces, refine it, polish it. It was a wild drive, the childish smile on her face denounced that quite clearly, it was an exception in all of her portfolio of works, the muse rarely did anything without a plan, in fact, she often planned that her creations would make pretty ruins should a Sibling decide to meddle with her original project.

It was not until she began crafting a lute, taking out some of her hairs to make its strings, that she started to ponder on the situation. What odd chimera was she going to craft? The design was not much different from the Dreamweaver and based on the duality between the soundboard and the string. Yet the materials, the materials! On one side the very building block of what is and can be on the other dreams and other illusions, things that did not exist but could still be felt.   

[colour=ec008c][i]"I'm not a scientist brother, I'm at most a philosopher, I look at the dots that I can see and I try to see the possible connections. I also do not care about the origin of the fibers from whose my canvas was made from and what kind of things the plant or animal that crafted them could have witnessed, my mind is only concerned about its fate after my ink has touched it."[/i][/colour] She declared while carving the finishing touches in the odd instrument she felt fated to create, almost as if someone had personally commissioned it down to the smallest details, yet she couldn't even think about a single being that could be skilled enough to play those strings 

[colour=ec008c][i]"Yet, a single question is torturing me ever since I started to grasp the concept I'm creating. What happens when the universe itself, from the largest galaxy clusters to the smallest bit of quantum foam, decides to tell a lie?"[/i][/colour]
Vowzra found her question odd and - strangely enough - rather unexpected. His experience with Belruarc had befuddled his mind and Sight. He felt like one who navigated a tunnel. He knew where it led and what waited at its end, but what lay between him and that end was shrouded in darkness and mist. And her question was one such thing, a beast of the mists which now reared up before him and demanded he face it.
[colour=black][i]'If such a thing were to be,'[/i][/colour] he said slowly, [colour=black][i]'then it is certain that the galaxies and quantum foam have not spoken untruth, but rather, you perceive them to have uttered an untruth. The fact of the matter is this: you cannot believe, do not wish to believe, what the most truthful things in creation have uttered, and so you ascribe a lie to that which cannot lie, to that which speaks with the tongue of Fate itself,'[/i][/colour] he bent down and inspected the lute that had taken form before him. Even now he could sense the strange energies that pulsated from it.
[colour=black][i]'Yet do tell me, Divine Beauty, why it is that this question tortures you, for I have never known the Universe to tell lies,'[/i][/colour] and with that, he laid a wooden hand upon the loot. And his mind exploded with a divine vision.

[centre][b][h1]***[/h1][/b][/centre]

He could not hear her. Though he strained his ears and hushed his breath, he could not hear so much as a tiptoe. They had promised him, though, they had said that they would be united.
'Just don't look back,' was the condition. And he had not. Yet now he was so close to the end, and he could not hear her at all. Had they fooled him? Had they played a trick most evil and cruel? Had he not travelled these darkened realms, charmed its deathly inhabitants, and wept bitterly before them? Could it be that his voice, for once, had not captivated the hearts of those who listened to it? It simply could not be.

[colour=olive][i]'Just don't look back,'[/i][/colour] he whispered to himself, the light was so close, there was not long to go before they were forever united. He would love her truly, this time, he would treasure her. Yet he could not perceive her following him. Not even the dead could be so silent!

[colour=olive][i]'Ye gods!'[/i][/colour] he lamented, [colour=olive][i]'what are our sins that you should taunt us so?'[/i][/colour] and the grief-stricken poet turned, and his eyes fell upon those of his beloved. He looked into those eyes, mesmerised at first, but then realisation struck. He had broken the rule. He cried out in fear and jumped towards her, reaching out with a hand and trying to save her. But the grasp of death was faster. Before his first tear could form, she had plummetted into oblivion and he was forever banished from her eyes. There would be no return, his audience with the sovereign over these deathly planes would not give him a second audience.

And he cried bitter tears, and his fingers played until they dripped liquid rubies, and his voice wept and caused all who heard it to weep.

[b][centre][h1]***[/h1][/centre][/b]

When Vowzra's eyes opened, he and Ilunabar were no longer alone. There was a third presence. And he had the lute in his hands. It was the being from his visions, the singer, the musician. The Bard. Ilunabar simply tilted her head in confused curiosity, there it was, the mystery of her question, the root and trunk of the twigs and leafs she had crafted. The man, whoever he was, even felt familiar to her, though for now all she could think about it was that this was simply a trick created by yet another unconventional act of Fate. But even then, why didn't fate's other interventions cause such uncanny feeling in the depth of her soul? It was a mystery, one that made her heart beat in an odd tempo.

Vowzra could See that the presence of this new being confused Ilunabar. He wondered if there was a connection - perhaps the vision he had seen could provide some answers. But he did not feel obliged to say anything - indeed, Fate did not command him so, and he did not see why unFated kindness should exist, just as unFated cruelty should not. When the Time came, if it came, for he could not See it, he would reveal what he has seen. But for the moment, there was nothing more to be done.

[colour=black][i]'You have done well, Divine Beauty, the Will of Fate has been accomplished. I shall take him, and he shall be a force of the forces of Fate,'[/i][/colour] and with that, the Lord of Time laid a hand upon the shoulder of The Bard, and both beings melted away into nothingness, leaving Ilunabar to her own thoughts.

They reappeared inside Chronos, upon the great Cube. The being looked around himself, curiosity clear in his eyes.
[colour=black][i]'Explore it all, for it is your home, and it is your duty to protect it. And explore this, the Hexahedron Historicus Creato, for it is only you and I who can understand it. And be certain to reward the Worthy and punish those who are otherwise,'[/i][/colour] and with that, Vowzra and his second-born son sat upon the Cube, and they spoke. And questions were answered, and music was played and poetry was recited.
[colour=black][i]'Tell me of the War,'[/i][/colour] Vowzra suddenly commanded. The Bard was, at first, surprised, but as he looked into the Eye of Time, he understood. His face was, at first, grim and his eyes hard, but then a smile broke out.
[colour=olive][i]'Ah, yes. The War,'[/i][/colour] he whispered, [colour=olive][i]'there will be War.'[/i][/colour]
And The Bard sang.

Now alone in her realm again, Ilunabar sighed. [colour=ec008c][i]"I wonder if my little birds are like that with me and my script,"[/i][/colour] she was unsure if she would like that or not, good actors always played their parts, yet a well-performed ad-lib was the mark of the best. As she observed the area around her she noticed things hadn't exactly returned to their previous state, a distant and discrete mechanical noise still ticked among the flow of the plane, in some dreams it ticked faster, in some it ticked slower and sometimes it even ticked ticks from the hours that the clock had yet to point.