imeeji_frontstage | Flowers of Heaven II: Star of Bethlehem

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Flowers of Heaven II: Star of Bethlehem

Who: lost(?) idols
Where: ???? a mysterious courtyard
When: day 490

[ You awaken to the feeling of cool stone at your back, and a night sky overhead.

All around is a courtyard—a wide circle of marble tile, alternating black and white, interspersed with stone benches and flowerbeds and ornamental trees, all lit by the lambent gleam of strangely vivid starlight.

It is beautiful. And it is decaying. The stone is cracked; the flowers wild and overflowing between the cracked stone; the trees bent and twisted with age, the ground around them littered with fallen fruit. There is a fountain in the center of this space, but it too is broken-down: the water sits stagnant, and nothing remains of the design except a basin and the shattered base of a once-golden sculpture.

—And surrounding it all are not walls, but dense mounds of kudzu, climbing over itself until it towers as high as any watchtower.

How did you get here?
The last thing you vaguely recall is a sudden fit of drowsiness. There’s no sign of any guide or host around, and your powers don’t currently work either. In fact, if you have any corruptions, whether mental or physical, they too are … gone? No, perhaps that's not quite it; you can still feel them—faint, like a phantom limb. Invisible, and unable to affect you.
But there is one notable exception to the rule: all wings, corruption-induced or not, remain in place, as natural as the starlight.

There are other idols around you, all waking up the same way. Is this meant to be some kind of game…? ]

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[ imagine when alala discovers heartgames: wherein the whole concept is "fuck around and find out"

anyway he can keep hitting things and running around; certainly, he creates more scratches on the wall. but no new revelations are found; in fact, the whole thing starts to take on an encroaching air of... futility. pointlessness. emptiness. ]

[ alala is going to be the first one dead,
and no one is going to be the least bit surprised. ]

[ also there is no castlevania turkey behind this not-so-invisible wall, wtf. ]

[ #jipped ]

[ he is tiring himself out though, so he eventually stops, looking back at gent. ] ...y- yeah, I, ah, I guess that makes sense, since we, uhm, we're in hell and... we're... you know... hell touched and stuff. [ he's going to use the sword as a walking stick and just lean on it. ] I guess there's no secret passage.

[ he is so disappointed YOU HAVE NO IDEA. ]

...let's keep going. You can take the lead. [ he will drag his sorry ass behind and also flip the wall off when he's not looking. ]

[ Glancing over, then starting on ahead. ]

If you're sure. [ He'd have helped Lala walk, but saving face is understandable. As is flipping off the wall even if this is not the wall's fault. ]

If it helps, you look quite dashing with the sword. [ little ego boost for your energy levels? ]

[ they can keep going, down, down the stairs—

the lights gradually seem dimmer, although it's hard to notice exactly when. but it's still easy to see your own feet, and where you're going—easy enough to avoid the shattered pieces of a rusted sword strewn across several steps, the stone beneath spattered with gold. ]

[ as soon as things start to take a turn for the horror alala hurries to move his little pink ass alongside gent instead of behind gent. he's still clutching his own sword... frowning at the broken rusted swords at their feet. he's moving a bit more carefully, because, you know, tetanus, and he's not all about that. ]

Careful. [ the gold... is concerning. he's reminded of the walls and how he originally thought they were bleeding. he kind of thinks that IS the case, again, but like... maybe not so much that the building is bleeding so much as something was killed here... ]

Y- You think, well, I, ah, I was originally on the knight team, avante, so... just call me your knight in shining armor. [ raises the sword, while sobbing internally. ]

[ oh now Lala wants to be careful -- better late than never, though. Gent isn't normally so cautious himself, just this whole thing smells like bad news. ]

I'm being careful. [ Stopping down and trying to see if the gold is coming from the sword as in the sword broke and it spilled out, or coming from the sword as in the pointy bit went into something that spilled gold. Also looking around for any other gold around. ]

[ that's some impressive stammering, Lala. Gent glances over with a little smile. ] Is that all I should call you? [ a pause too long to be accidental, and then ] Since you've changed units, and all.

[ the gold doesn't seem to be coming from the swords—but rather, that perhaps the sword spilled it from something or someone.

after all, doesn't a tower bring to mind fortifications, which in turn bring to mind the possibility of defending from something? ]

[ ohno. something is surely waiting in the depths of this dark hell pit... there hadn't been all that much blood up on the top of the tower, but as they go deeper. alala's mind continues to run rampant, but he continues to make his way down... the sword beginning to slightly tremble in his hands. ]

If we're, uhm, going that route, then you should call me Quetzal, that was my... my avante name. Quetzal the knight. [ he takes a deep breath and grips the sword tighter. he can do this. it wouldn't be the first time he's used a sword. ]

[ In Gent's defense the walls here bleed gold so a sword bleeding gold isn't that farfetched, and also a rusted-ass sword like this isn't exactly ideal for defense. No wonder the thing broke. ]

Quetzal, hm? A lovely creature indeed. [ Go Go Gadget Distraction Attempt! Don't mind that they're going into the bowels of a questionable tower in a possibly dying land. Continuing to look around for gold or anything else really, Gent isn't the least bit uncomfortable. Strange and secret places are interesting. ] Is that why you took the name, aesthetics?

[ even though it seems like something terrible happened here—

there's no other sound but for the two of their footsteps, descending the staircase. there's no sign of life at all. just the encroaching dark, and the way even limbs and thoughts begin to feel sluggish. every action is tinged with a feeling of futility. ]

mHm. I had to pick something as pretty as me. [ he's vain af. ]

...this better not be a dead end too, come on, where the hell is the end! [ he hisses through clenched teeth, slowing down just a little bit, but still pushing his way forward, because he's a stubborn little shit and he's still pissed that he didn't get a wall turkey. fuck you, fort, give him something of value besides DISAPPOINTMENT. ]

Hello! Is anybody down there!!

Obviousl--

[ A bit of an internal wince at the yelling, but at least what answer they get or don't is bound to be informative. (But for real Lala decide whether you're nervous or pissed.) ]

Anything I can do to distract you from this frustrating predicament? [ Ideally without waking the dead or destroying either of their eardrums ]

[ no sounds present themselves other than echoes of their voices—sounding strangely like they're being heard from underwater.

it becomes harder and harder to move forward, like they're both walking through a thick mire up to their shoulders; the air is thick with humidity that feels suffocating.

it becomes even hard to think about their most important convictions... whether relevant to this, or otherwise. it becomes almost night-dark, lit only by the faintest of glow from sconces on the wall. ]

... [ alala is back to using the sword to brace himself, still just kind of ambling down the stairs at this point - focusing on the lights now. ] There's got to be something, right, Gent?

[ Don't like that feeling, but he's also not planning to stop. Pleh, mortal emotions. ]

I wish I could tell you. [ Reaching up to fiddle with some of the lights, these things detach at all? ] Do you want to turn back?

[ are they mortal emotions?

perhaps, but—the suffocating pressure of this area feels less human, and more like what a tool or a weapon might feel, when the one who was meant to use it has left. the emptiness of an eternity of irrelevance.

it becomes harder to focus on the lights. it's hard to tell if there's any light left, or just an afterimage. it becomes harder to hear one's own heart. the light is gone. all is empty e͔͓̰̝̪̜̞ḿ̭̳̞͇̖p̖̞̫t̗͉̣͞y͡ ę̜̳͔̟̠̠̥̀m̯̱͍͕̣͕̟̤͇̕͞ṕ̵̻̱̮̗̳̘͍̤t̛͎͇̺̤ý̵͙͔̰̯̻͙͞ ḙ̯͈̪̱̱̰̩̹̯̯̙͈͔̰͘͞͞m̴̴̵̧͈͇̪͙̱̞̥̗͇͖̠̯͖̦̖͙̹̕p̹̥̟̥͚͎̙̠͟͢t̷̨̛̛͉̭̙̦̙̥͓̝̤̜̼y̶̷̻̳̱̯̻͇̼̙͔̲̗̬̻̕͢͞ͅͅ — ]

[ alala grips the sword even tighter. oh. this is a feeling that's a little... too familiar. he's felt empty inside since he can'̛̖̘̅̇̇ͧ̉ͥ̊t̛̻̰̫̬͉̱̠̏ͮ͑̚ remember. he gives a soft chuckle, one that steadily grows louder and slightly more unhinged as he continues to head into the darkness. he's chasing eternity. he's chasing relevance. but the empty feeling never ever does go away. he's dead inside now and forever. ]

[ By salt and sky Lala, pick a personality. ]

[ Gent smirks into the darkness and keeps descending, mindful of his footfalls (making enough noise for Lala to follow, but no more). What's the worst they can find down here, demons? ]

[ Now those are a faerie story. ]

[ the empty feeling never goes away. it becomes heavier and heavier and heavier, and soon it even becomes difficult to move or make a sound.

why is alala chasing these things?
why is gentiana here?

there maybe things to chase... but there are also far easier things. like lying down on the ground. what conviction is stronger than this emptiness? ]

[ the no sound is kind of strange and unsettling... ew. the conviction of a pure stubborn ass. since moving is difficult he stops trying to descend the stairs for a moment and just uses what little strength he has to do things to snake his arms around the sword. his legs... he shifts them around the dull af blade. ]

[ clings. ]

[ then he just leans forward and throws himself down the stairs. (somewhat) tuck and roll. mostly roll. this is the dumbest fucken idea ever, but who said being smart was part of the equation. it's about sticking it to the man... or the equally stubborn stairwell in this case. ]

[ .........well okay then ]

[ Just gonna wait for the inevitable right where he is for a second, but he's not really going to leave the fool at the bottom of whatever this is. ]

[ ah, the foolish courage of motion. each moment alala's body strikes the ground, there is a kind of echoing clang, and screech, as of metal dragging against stone. this despite the fact that his body is wrapped around the dull blade. and the words seem to echo in his head like a refrain: make me your sword, make me your sword, make me your sword. they are not his words, he can feel their desperation beating against the shield of his own stubbornness.

then there is gentiana's stillness. it settles about his shoulders like a weight, pressing down. why not just keep waiting. wait and wait and wait for someone to come, though someone will never come, though all might be empty forever—
(who are you, gentiana? who are you, here in the dark?) ]

[ alala holds the sword that much tighter, as if protecting it is something he needs to do. he found the sword, so it's got to be important. it's a key, it has to be. he starts murmuring to himself, but it grows a little louder as he continues, eventually opening his eyes and glaring into the darkness, trying to stare through it; impossible though it may be. ] My sword, you're my sword, and we'll do this, together, we'll do this and we'll conquer the darkness, we'll do it together, we need each other to do it... [ he tightens his jaw and takes a few steady breaths, readying himself, ]

MY NAME IS QUETZALALA, THE DARK KNIGHT OF SENSITIV, YOU IMPLIED I WAS IRRELEVANT AND EMPTY, NOW PREPARE TO DIE!

[ IT'S AN ATTEMPT AT GO TIME, BB! ]

[ Hearing Lala go full crazed warrior is amusing enough to let Gent start dragging himself down the stairs, both shoulders rolling toward his back as if to shake off the spell(?) that has him weighed down. ]

[ He walks down the stairs with his light and graceful steps, calling out to Lala as he thinks he's approaching. ]

Don't hit me with that thing. [ It sounds distasteful on a number of levels. ]

[ Did someone imply that Alala was irrelevant? empty? Or did no one ever even need to say it—just as no one need say any fundamental truth? Because any fight at all is meaningless, if in fact there is no meaning to be found in the choice to fight...

...But enough of that. He's screaming his conviction to the emptiness before them, even though the last of the light has faded and all else is silent, and emptiness claws at his heels.

Compared to that yell, the sound of Gentiana dragging himself onwards is strangely muffled. Like the very air of the tower is suffocating the sound. And each of them are beginning to sound somewhat distant to the other... ]

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