The Fifteen Strangers Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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15strangers2023-07-21 10:18 pm
strangerpeople) wrote in 15strangers2023-07-21 10:18 pm
Entry tags:
FINAL TRIAL
(1 of Hekatombaion)
[When the time comes, Charon arrives on a boat, hrrhrrhrring a little tune as he rows. No need to worry about space, even with all of the shades coming with. Fluffles, unsurprisingly, doesn't go; he does see everyone off, at least, before he falls asleep.
With a final hnnnngrrrgh, they're off. Charon is the master of the Styx, in his own way, deftly avoiding roots and branches from the Qliphoth as he guides his charges up through the layers of the underworld. From the dark and gloomy green of Tartarus, to the lava-flooded Asphodel and it's giant many-headed bone snake, sadly snarled in demonic roots (without thinking, Zack waves to it), on through the lazy rivers of Elysium, and lastly through the pitch stink of the corridors of a temple separating the underworld from the living world.
Throughout, there is eerie quiet. No shades appear to watch their procession-indeed the few wisps around seem to be fleeing, hiding. No rats try to bite Zack's face off. Aside from Lernie, there's truly nothing but tree, tree, and more tree.
Finally, though, the surface air hits, and it is...not cold, but not warm, either. Though, as everyone disembarks, that's probably not what catches everyone's attention. No-it is the barren fields of ancient Greece, just outside the entrance to the underworld-and there is only one thing alive in the area.
It is late afternoon, and the silhouette of the new moon is the only thing that emits real light now in the grey. Indeed, if there is a sun, it is blocked out by the massive, massive roots in the sky, swirling into the stratosphere. The roots in the underworld were in fact more akin to greedy branches; the roots in the sky of the world of life, however, are far more massive, and it's clear the tree is fully grown. And-if the dead grass and trees and barren lands around the Temple of Styx are any indication-it isn't simply feeding on human blood-it's affecting the life of the earth itself, greedily lapping up what it can as it further embeds itself, further spreads, further grows. Further destroys.
It won't stop. There is obsession and power, and Delta is right-it will never stop unless someone intervenes.
Wordlessly Delta points to a Spire of blood in front of them. Yup-they need to enter it to get to where they need to go. Lovely.]
Through here is the core of the tree where the fruit of the Qliphoth is being cultivated. Come.
[Well, no turning back. With luck, the Catillac has some extra towels.
So, immediately after squishing into the...blood elevator?...everyone is schllllorped on a ride akin to w water slide, going up and down, left and right, up, up, up, then down, down, down....down.......
d
o
w
n
into the depths.
And when they emerge...]
[Bright flowers grow on the vines. There is distant birdsong, and the sun shines among fat, lazy clouds. But you can see the shine of glass in the corner of your eye; the air is too perfect to breath, too cold to touch. You don't feel the grass or dirt underfoot that you can clearly see The smell of blood is everywhere.
An illusion? A dream? A delusion? Something else? Who knows. There is a patio table laid out with tea, and four seats. It's almost as if the owner simply got up and left for a moment. It's all strange, all...wrong.
Still. You're finally here. You're in the core. You freed a possible god from the grip of forced ignorance. And you have-you hope-everything you need to end this. But there is still one question:
It is time, Strangers. By the seas, the heavens and the earth, by blood and darkness, it's up to you.
Good luck.]
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...This. It has to be some sort of sick mockery...right?
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[He's eased off a bit, still just standing, his eyes under the robe never wavering.]
Just as there are certainly as many different versions of 'James Moriarty', then there are certainly many different versions of you, Roland, Makima...
...And of a certain woman.
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People he'd trusted had killed on the ship, under duress. This is...different. This is someone he believes in betraying that faith of her own will. Committing atrocities he'd never thought she'd even imagine.
...And if it's devastating for him, he can only imagine how it is for the twins, who had known her so much more personally.]
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He just... quietly walked up and put what he hoped was a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Just letting him know he was there for him. ]
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You know... [His voice is choked, quiet.] She was around...before Mundus attacked the human world.
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...So this is personal for you, as well. You knew about her...
[ Then his voice drops as well, arm going around the devil carefully in turn. ] Alastor, I... I'm sorry...
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You still knew her and that still... it wouldn't stop this from hurting any less.
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He says nothing, but...well. He can offer comfort, in whatever little way he can.]
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[Gai knows he's far from the most comforting person-- he was never raised that way and he certainly doesn't have many examples to fall back on.
Still, that doesn't mean he isn't going to try, as awkward as it may be, because Alastor had done the same thing for him when he needed it. It's the very least he can do, after all.]
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[ It's a very grim looking thing now, and not even he knows how to really help with this. ]
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