Not a Sayan
Vec
The Demigod of Secrets
Level: 1
Might: 0
Journal of the Blind Seeker
Immediate issue presents itself -- I am largely incapable of defending myself. They sneak up on me time and time again, and every time they could have destroyed me. Unacceptable. It will take time to detect them. Immediately, I need to power myself. And this is what this machine that sits before me is for. I predict that I can empower myself with the gap. Simple enough. May be being watched, too much info given away now.
Just need to use it.
A sensation that was more worldly than any Lazarus currently felt wrenched him out if his visions. A row of chains rung out taut and his eyes opened just in time to see it wrapped around his waist, wrenching him out of his seat. Blood dripped onto the floor in front of him from his face. A white shape had been on the other end of the chains, he realised.
Realized he did, but comprehend he did not. He sat on the floor, the divine energies he exuded around him as a defacto sensory organ pulsating rapidly, in tune with the violent convulsions he was suffering. He could barely think, a majority of his mind still occupied with the remnants of what he’d unleashed upon himself.
The chains did not give Lazarus much time before they began to wrap around his arms and legs. They were uncomfortably tight, but they were not crushing. He could barely convulse under their weight.
In his peripheral senses, Lazarus saw pointed white sabatons padding on the floor calmly past his body. The origin of the chains stepped up to his machine and knelt beside it. It made a movement with its finger upon one of the gears and caused it to grind to a halt. It was a symbol that caused it, silencing the chamber around them. It was hard to focus, but even from his state, Lazarus could tell that the entire concept of the symbol was one of stillness.
The white shape stood up and turned to Lazarus properly. Again, the chains took up a life of their own, lifting Lazarus’ body upright and turning him to the shape. It outstretched a hand and cupped the cheek of Lazarus’ visor. Its touch caused more than what he anticipated. All the whirling visions and pain fell into patterns and rows in his mind’s eye. They folded and folded until, gradually, the world returned to semi-logic.
”I cannot take the visions away if you keep resisting.” The voice that hummed forth was curt, but held authority. ”You will not be free of the Gap unless you allow me to help you. Calm yourself.”
Lazarus spoke quietly, no longer as deliberate or mad as before. He sounded more like a child as the divine energies he exuded continued to fluctuate, whispering out but a brief few words. “Make the pain stop.” Blood continued to flow from his nose, and everything hurt. He couldn’t comprehend what he saw, but it certainly left its mark.
The patterns continued to fold away with every outward breath Lazarus released. With it, the pain began to dull, his senses began to clear. His mind was being brushed by the gentle hand on his cheek with motherly gentleness. The memories of the gap were still in his mind, but whenever Lazarus tried to recall them, they were blocked by strange red symbols that described wards and walls. Pain lanced through his temples when he tried to read them too closely.
As all traces of the gap began to subside from Lazarus’ consciousness, the owner of the hand on his cheek came into focus. The white shape was a light, petite human figure, clad in a gapless carapace of white plate armour. Lazarus’ senses were drawn to the insignia on its chest; two adjacent circles enclosed in a larger third circle, drawn in bright red. The figure’s helmet was surprisingly similar to Lazarus’, though it had no holes or lines upon it and the visor did not look designed to open. A wispy white cape fell from the figure’s shoulders. From under the figure’s arms fell slack the chains that held Lazarus bound. ”How are you feeling?” it asked. ”Is the pain still present?”
As soon as the chains went slack, Lazarus simply fell to the ground, knees buckling. The figure knelt down as well, the wispy cape falling slowly against the air. Lazarus shakily held himself up with his arms as he kneeled on the ground. He drew in shaky breaths, hit with lances of pain every time his mind desperately tried to pull up the images to make sense of them. He meekly responded, ”It hurts. It hurts.” he paused a moment, quietly whispering arcane words.
The arcane link between him and Mesera and Furem was opened, and he proceeded to dump some of the load onto them, forcing them to share in his pain. He desperately required a reprieve, and he had the perfect dumping ground.
”Lazarus. You must leave what you saw behind. The pain will not stop until you do. I made sure of it.” The figure’s voice appeared to lack the empathy that its words suggested. ”Focus elsewhere. Explain to me what you were doing. Why did you delve into the Gap without caution?”
Upon hearing the figure’s words, he immediately dumped all of the warded off memories into the arcane link between him and Mesera and Furem, forcing them to live with what he did, at least for the time being. He then took a moment to recompose himself as he closed the arcane link, locking away the memories. He, however, remained with a tone of utter exhaustion and defeat. “I thought.. I thought I could control it. I took precautions. I took precautions.”
”No, you did not,” the figure interrupted. ”You piled some pebbles to suppress a flood. Why were you trying to control the Gap, Lazarus?”
He fell silent for a time, fighting an internal battle. One side of him was too exhausted to lie, but the other side screamed at him not to tell the truth. ”I was.. I needed the power. I needed the power. It was the eas-- easiest source.” He remained kneeling on the ground, still recovering from his attempt at channeling the gap.
A pause was followed by a flat response. ”Is that all?”
”Y-yes. That’s.. That’s all.” He spoke shakily, still kneeling as what seemed to be a few aftershocks hit him.
The figure’s head slowly turned to look at a nearby wall, bowing its head in thought. Its focus turned back to Lazarus. ”If it was not made clear just now, the Gap is not a place to gather power. The greatest gods have trouble harnessing its smallest motes. The figure tilted its head. ”For what reason do you wish to gather power, Lazarus?”
Lazarus refused to tilt his head up, keeping it pointed at the ground as the blood dripping from his nose pooled just below him. ”Need it for.. For experiments. Need it. To defend myself.. From Amestris. From the others. All after me. Needed to defend myself.”
The figure lifted one forearm over its knee, causing the chains to tinkle with the movement. The chains had retracted without notice. They ended with strange barbed weights. ”I can defend you from Amestris, as well as your siblings, perhaps even the gods. Power is something that you must build on your own, though I might help you.” The figure’s head bowed forward again. Lazarus felt like its unseen eyes were still on him. ”I could do this for you for a service in return.” The figure gave a moment for Lazarus to consider.
Lazarus didn’t have it in him to pry or riddle. He spoke plainly as he continued to kneel shakily. “What service?”
”Keep researching. Find the codex of creation.”
He just nodded, not even bothering to speak. He acknowledged the request with an agreement, then returned to pooling his own blood on the floor. He had worked up quite a bloodflow.
”Good. I will be watching.” The figure stood up and roughly took the top of Lazarus’ head in its fingers. He was still for a moment, unable or unwilling to act. In the next instant, as if he had blinked, the figure had disappeared. Some time had passed. He could see footprints walking around himself and out of the chamber, before they faded into nothing.
He simply remained kneeling as the figure left, still recovering.
Mesera and Furem
Mercy and Wrath
0 Khookies
Level 1
The pain hit them suddenly, all at once. At first it was just minor, and they struggled through it. Furem took the bulwark of the pain while Mesera propped him up. They worked together to hold it back, until it suddenly hit them like a wave. A burst of pain, pulsating in their temples. Their forms switched rapidly as they dropped to the ground.
Get rid of the pain, little Kitsune.
Endure the pain, dear Wolf.
And so they worked together, mentally holding themselves together as their physical form twitched on the ground, overwhelmed by the utter pain it was suffering. They had retreated deep into their mind, actively trying to block off the sources of the pain; the memories, blocked off by wards, that had suddenly been forced upon them.
And so they laid on the ground, twitching.
