StarfrostedFox
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EliteCommander
With his vision shattered and his face broken, Toun bowed his head and left the parchment to the ravenous claws of conflict. He turned and strode away in barely motivated paces while commotion broke out. He took none of it in.
Niciel did offer to try and heal Toun. It was a kind gesture, as befitted her, but Toun gently brushed her away. Toun's voice rang out quietly, still quivering, but not in mania any more. It was a depressed and defeated tone. "It is no use, sister. I must bear this scar for my failings."
As Toun continued to walk, he stumbled due to the attempt of Niciel to diffuse the conflict. It would not matter now.
The whisperings of Mammon continued to try and provoke a reaction from Toun, but they were no longer heeded, just like anything else. Mammon did not understand Toun. Mammon only understood twisted contrivances to justify his wretched existence. There was nothing useful to hear from him.
Perhaps he might start over. Toun entertained the thought of making his own design. It may not be mighty or near-infinite like the parchment, but it would not be meddled by the selfish and destructive gods that contributed. His own design would be paradise and he would enjoy it for himself. The others no longer deserved it.
Before Toun could fathom how to gather the power for such an endeavour, his eye bulged with shock and he halted in place. There was a great disturbance as Fate snatched up the parchment and prepared to do the unthinkable. "No...you wouldn't..."
Toun scrunched his eye shut as the wrenching sensation of creation at a massive scale rent his perceptions of all asunder, only to be remade. It was too late. They actually did it. They took up the wretched, corrupted design made by the quarrelling gods and brought it to fruition. Toun knew he should have tried to destroy it. He couldn't have fathomed such a daring act taking place. He screamed in rage and pain as matter and energy coalesced into reality. His scream fell on deaf ears as all the gods were powerless to prevent it. In an effort to deny the reality, Toun blocked it all out. He curled up and slept, weeping red ink. This was the birth of untold suffering and he seemed to be the only one who acknowledged it.
When time saw fit, Toun was awakened by a grand flash of light as Ull'Yang took his radiant form. The warmth was strangely comforting. A cathartic hug after enduring horrors unspeakable. Toun looked around with a gasp, though there was naught but empty space and cosmic rays to breathe. There was a planet nearby. Brown and barren, but springing pools of blue and green and grey. The nearest object of remark and already the gods were at their games again. Painting and painting over. It was such an ugly mural already.
Toun's disgust was interrupted by the presence of Logos. There was a small exchange where Logos promised Toun a boon, but Toun was not as happy with the state of things as the god of order was. True, this lack of subservience and lock-step control was enough to make Logos' blood boil, but the implication that Toun should receive a reward for building something so disgusting brought his disposition to new lows.
"My defence was not enough," Toun growled in reply to the eyes and the wings before him. "Do not expect me to hold pride for such a mess." Toun peered down at the planet, it was still writhing and spreading various shapes. "The others already know what they did, I shan't tell them anything more about it."
Logos took flight again to go about his business and Toun crossed his arms in thought. There was a turmoil of fear and loathing in his mind, preventing him from discerning the path ahead. He just needed to think.
The shapes on the planet were joined by Vulamera on the periphery as she sculpted moons with her power. They each took shape as their own works of art, with various compositions and symbolism. Toun watched on, tiring of all the commotion. How was he meant to think when the gods were bashing rocks together and shouting at the top of their voices?
The immediate response from Toun to being informed that one of the moons was made in his honour was confusion and boiling anger. Toun angled his head to one side and narrowed one eye. Who was Vulamera to think that she could honour his own perfection? A sphere is a cursed illusion of perfection in this world. A trick. By the design of this universe, no sphere, no matter how perfect, would ever be a true sphere unless the matter dipped into an infinite fractal. The smooth surface of the moon was rough to those small enough to perceive it. The moon was marred, like his face. It was an insult, a jab at his own flaws. It was enough to make Toun's hand turn to blades...but they retracted slowly. His eye softened. There was an inspiration in this.
In a surprisingly level reply, Toun spoke out to Vulamera. "Your sentiment is...appreciated, sister."
And with that, there were no more words. Toun turned his head to the world. He needed a space to think, but also to be away from the tumult around him. He had much to ponder. Thankfully, a circle of mountains served a perfect candidate. A space of tranquillity built by Niciel herself. Toun warped his body into an infinitely thin ductile rod that extended down into the atmosphere at astonishing speed and spread out once again into his form under the coloured clouds of the valley.
"Yes, here will do." Toun reached his mind out to his sister, Niciel, the owner of this place. "My sister. I seek refuge from the chaos of this universe. If you would but suffer my presence in this place for a while, I promise not to meddle in any of your activities."