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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[ the sword is so, so heavy. it's becoming to walk and carry it at the same time... ]

[ His footsteps slow, gritting his teeth. He wants to lean on the wall, but he doesn't dare touch it when he can't tell if he's seeing things leak down from the ceiling or if its just the light playing with him.

After a few moments, he allows the heavy weapon to fall to the ground. It's fine- he still has the one at his waist. It may feel like forever, but-- he knows he made it down before. Surely, he can a second time...? ]

Just let me down. I do not wish to fight-- only talk.

[ Because surely... it is a force that is making it difficult for him to approach. In the end, he has no idea if the individual he saw in the water can hear him or not, though.]

[ there's no answer. it's dark. even the sword hitting the stone beneath him is strangely muffled.

what matters to him? can he remember? ]

[ He has to hold on tight to that. His ideals and the things he cherishes are all he has. Even when strength abandons him, he has his desire to see through to the end, because everything is larger than him. It isn't about him. It is about his cousin, his unit from home, and even his friends.

If he cannot find a way to help them, then who will? ]

[ it's cold.

he might never abandon them, those people he holds dear—
but will they always be so faithful? was not his leader abandoned by his so-called friends, once? ]

[ . . . . . . ]

[ It's fine. It's fine. He has to remind himself of such, shivering a little in the dark. His free hand curls around a little charm on his phone. It isn't like anyone would just forget or abandon him. Leo-san, too... maybe, there was a time when he was alone. He doesn't understand it all very much yet- for some reason, his seniors never wanted to tell him.

But at the end of the darkness, he found the light again, didn't he? He found Knights. He can't believe that Leo-san, or Natsume would ever abandon him to the darkness or betray him. Because they know what it feels like already to be there.

. . . They aren't the sort to leave someone else to the same fate. He has to believe that. ]

[ honestly i forgot that he got that effect. lol. lmao

for a moment, it still feels like the darkness is closing in around him, suffocating, blotting out all light and sound and self and memory—

and then there's a sound like a drop of water falling, ahead of him. so quiet. even when he tries to get up, though, his limbs will feel heavy and tired. there is only so long one can keep fighting this kind of battle before needing to rest, after all. ]

[ It is one heavy step after another. At times, it feels no faster than a snail's pace. But he remembers the sound of the water, from earlier. He tries hard to focus on it, despite the weight that feels like a shackle on his body. ]

You-- really aren't making this easy... huh.

[ Through gritted teeth. It's slow, but he forces one foot forward and then another, no matter how painstaking. ]

[ no one answers. just the steady drip, drip, drop of water.

he eventually sees a faint outline of the pool, and the stones that surround it; he can dimly see his reflection on the water, even though there's very little light. ]

[ The pool is, at least, a relief to see finally coming into view. It's with some effort that he drags himself to it once more. Once there, he'll look around to see if anything has changed within the room. Is the man within the pool gone now, only his own reflection there to greet him? Is the throne still present? ]

[ again that feeling—as of boundaries blurring, creation fading out at the edges.
again the pool, its surface black and clear as the void.

this time, though, that face already peers out from it, eyes wide with something like desperation– ]

The connection is fleeting—! I have not long, but I pray thee hear 'cross these waters of another's heart:
Remember! Hold fast and never give up!

[ Who is this? And why is there a second message, layered beneath the first? I don't want to be alone anymore. ]

[ ...and again the tendrils, threatening to wrap around him.

but this time it isn't him they come for, and this time they are not water but dark flame, extending from the throne of horn, wrapping around the one who tried to speak, pulling him under; pulling him away— ]

[ and at last the water is still for a long moment.

then, another face resolves within it. someone who lays still upon dirty ground, a chalk outline drawn around them. ]

[ His eyes grow wide. Stumbling back a step, his hand slips toward the sword at his waist to draw it forth as the tendrils abruptly begin to rise-- what he can do against them, he doesn't know. But it isn't him they go for. ]

Wait- stop-!

[ What can he do against tendrils? Nothing- But that doesn't stop him from moving in a panic as though he might somehow help the individual within the water. It all happens so quickly. The desperate plea of the other fades, disappearing as he rushes back to the water's edge. And he's gone. Teeth grit, he turns to look at the throne, naturally cautious now, until he realizes another form has now appeared within the water.

. . . It is no longer the one who tried to speak with him. Yet the sight is no less sorry.

. . . Will they be able to hear him, the way the other tried to speak with him? Is this the voice of the other?]

You there-

[ Speaking into the water's surface, concern threaded within his voice. ]

Are you alright? . . . Can you hear me?

[ the face..... turns towards him....... slow, as though movement itself is foreign.

.....their eyes...... meet his..... but briefly, and then.... unfocus once more.......

for a moment, he hears a voice, speaking directly to his mind, the words all too familiar:
Does any of it matter? Did any of this ever matter? I am pointless, purposeless, broken and faithless and empty. I am empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty empty em̸p҉ty ̕empty͝ e͕̼̲̩̣͢m̛͙̯p҉͇̲̬̖t̶͎͈̯̣y҉̮͍ e̻̞͍͈ͅm̛̲͎̹̰̫ͅp͓̖̦̖̙̤̗t̡̙͇̗͍y̨̻͈͙͈͈͍̤ ͉͓̰͔͎̕e̦̮̟̲͜m̟̞͠p̱͎͚̗̤t͕̲̫̙̀y͕̮̰͉͡ ̨̞̭e̙͎̪̠͕̩͇̞ͯ͊̌̓ͥ̍͆͆̌m̵̽͂̅͏̖͚͖̬̟̜p͐̈́ͬ҉͏̗̱̪̩̹t́ͯͦ̂̓͛͏̧̥̬̬̖͞ý̵̛͉̦̹̭̙̾ ̼͇͍̟̣̜̻̤́ͩ̔ͦ̾e̷̳͖̓ͩ͋̚͟m͊ͩͤ͛̾͢͞҉̜p̍̍͏̰̗̞̙̮͘t̨̲̮͖̩̪̣̬͈ͧ̽̂͛̀y̧̩̗̥̯̞͎ͬ̈́ ̶̧͎͓̯̂̒͐̓̒ͧͪe̡̧̯̺̣̲͉̯̞̳͊ͪ̄ͮm̻̘̺̤̞̰̳̮ͩ̄͊͒͛͐͋p͉̰̯̳̬̭̦̗̓ͦ̀ͦ̓ͩͭ̊t͇ͥ͂̀͛y̡̹̭͎̋̉ͬ̉ͤ̾ ̷̲̠͍ͪͣ͒͗ͦ̽͒̚ e͈̥͇̹͉͕͔̊ͮ͌̿ͮͮͧ̃̚͘̕ͅm̰̠͔͎̖͔ͯ̏ͨ̿̔̉ͤ̎pͨ͛͋͛ͨͫ̆ͨ͏͚̯͉̞̙ţ̨̨͇̝͉̩̼̪̞̺ͩ̉͂̌y̨͔͎͙̳̐̋ͭ͊͊ͧ̕ ... ]

[ . . .

It has been their feelings crawling all over his skin and settling painfully within his heart, then. He's quiet, briefly, lips pursing, before he speaks once more, hoping that his words can speak over the pain. ]

You are not empty.

[ He lowers the sword he had in his hands, leaning it up against the pool so that he can give the individual within the reflection of the water his full attention.

Your feelings, battered and injured as they are, have led me here. There is purpose in that. And, it matters to me, that I have found you.

[ their brows..... furrow......
....is someone.......speaking .........to them?

...they..... meet his eyes..... once more......... and some realization..... seems to dawn...... ]

[ and they....
howl.

it is a warcry. it is anguish.

all around Tsukasa, flowers bloom. they cover the ground, the walls; they blot out the surface of the pool. ]

[ NOT. NOT AS EXPECTED. He's startled, stumbling back a step when flowers suddenly cover the surface of the pool, appearing at his sides and taking root around the room. He stops trying to step on them when he realizes that's impossible.

But rather than retreat, he reaches into the pool to immediately begin the process of picking the flowers back out of it in order to clear the surface. ]

[ It is like trying to bail out a sinking ship with a thimble. And every time his hands touch one of the flowers, he feels it—each a potential truth of the soul so utterly Essential in its meaning as to—it almost feels—threaten to blot out his own.

He can no longer see the mouth that forms that mournful battlecry, but he can feel, too, the sound of it reverberating through him.

This: the need.
These: the choices.

They grow and grow, the flowers and the sound, until the blossoms cover his body as well. ]

S-Stop! STOP! Cease and desist at once!

[ Because now HE is struggling, tearing at the flowers blooming all over him too, desperate to hold onto himself as everything rushes around. ]

[ He is radiant, he is skill, he is secrecy, he is faith; he is rage and indulgence and epiphany and bondage and mercy and idealism; strangeness and unfurling potential and—!

What fills his nose is not the scent of flowers, but incense.
Someone is clasping his hand, the grip gentle yet strong. And he is pulled— ]

[ Tsukasa opens his eyes to curling ferns and mossy ground, dotted with delicate white flowers that look like some sort of snowdrop. It's... a clearing of some sort, though still surrounded by familiar stone walls and towering kudzu.

Here the night air is crisp and clear, smelling of rich soil and green leaves. In the center of this space is a single healthy fruit tree, its branches laden with yellow apples that gleam gold. ]

[ His heart hammers wildly in his chest after the experience of having been completely overtaken by the flowers, unsure even how he made it here. A hand-- who's had taken his and led him away? It's something of a blur in how it all happened to begin with. Like how dreams shift without any care for the impossibility of such transitions in reality.

The relatively simple clearing is a welcome relief, at least. It feels so much calmer and less daunting than the stress of the path he had followed for what felt like an eternity before.

Once he draws in a breath and calms down, he takes in the garden around him. This tree, and the fruit growing upon it...

It feels different from what he had seen before. Approaching the tree he looks up, a hand lifting for one of the beautiful apples that hang upon a low branch. ]

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