ercookies | TDM 006: SPECTRAL SPECTACLE

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TDM 006: SPECTRAL SPECTACLE

00. Arrival

This time, you come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore.

Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased.

With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a rundown apartment, a tent on the beach, or a bed in the “comfortable” new barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home.

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I. The Dragon's Matchmaking

Welcome to the Island, cherub dragons! The auspicious actions of your fellow Islanders have foreseen the reintroduction of dragons to the world. Unlike the hulking, possessive creatures of ancient lore (and recent hot springs), these well-meaning little critters love to help. Their small size and roly-poly frames make them unsuited to laborious tasks, but they will be the perfect companion to any residents who endeavor to pick up a small item, wish for their lunch to be delivered to an absolute stranger, or need a fire started from a tiny, flaming sneeze in their drafty homes. If a cherub dragon sees an Islander they perceive in need of their assistance, they will zip right in and refuse to scram until they’ve done the job!

No visible struggles? No problem! The little dragons also love to play matchmaker. Persistent dragons will gleefully nudge together Islanders they believe will have chemistry, and sometimes they aren’t wrong! Of course, even if sparks fail to fly, the dragons’ trilling songs are known to kindle romantic feelings between strangers and long-time lovers alike.

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II. Ruins

While the Islanders have been enjoying their autumn relaxation, the ‘bots of Erku have been hard at work clearing the surrounding forests of dangers for their guests’ safe habitation. If you are of deft hand with monster slaying, forestry, or even just hauling debris and weed picking, the robots will gladly exchange credits for help with reconstructing the recently unearthed mountain temple grounds from the rubble that remains there. Just follow the path of gently glowing mushrooms to the site of the temple ruins. Beware of lurking creatures, grabby plants, and falling rocks!

The temple ruins are tall and breathtaking, despite the eerie chill of the fog that lingers just beyond. Or is it the fog that sends a shiver up your spine? After all, this place was very spiritually important to the original inhabitants of the Island, the robots say to anyone curious enough to ask. Although their own programming does not include religious worship, the Augur believes the restoration of this place to be vital to the continued augmentation of Eros energy.

When questioned about the strange shadows that seem to slip from tree to tree, or the unsettling feeling of ghostly hands that seem to nudge volunteers deeper into the grounds, the robots respond with nothing but bafflement. Their sensors detect no unknown organic presence afoot.

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III. Ritual

Islanders who chase those mysterious shadows may find themselves particularly drawn to a structure that lay deeper within the ruins, beyond where the robots have made the most progress. Three sets of crumbling, moss-covered stairs join to form a central platform, which - despite the overcast skies - seems to emit a soft glow. Those who step onto the platform may begin to hear a quiet, compelling voice, which urges them to be free of their inhibitions and to offer their energy to the spirits to be multiplied hundredfold. Visions of naked bodies in the throes of carnal worship dance before the eyes. Those who are especially spiritually sensitive - or perhaps, just lucky - may feel as if possessed by a consciousness that is not their own, and that consciousness is filled with a burning sexual desire.

Leaving the platform is an option if alone, but the intense and overwhelming urge to seek companionship will persist until an Auspicious Act is completed. Those who are fortunate to be joined by company within the temple will feel compelled to worship right then and there, no matter the risk of being seen. Within the walls of the temple, Eros energy is enhanced such that any erotic act - big or small - will be enough to break the spell.

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N A V I G A T I O N

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I-I apologize. This is clearly a simple case of mistaken identity.

[That's not comforting in the slightest. A sword in the hands of a skilled mercenary, and him empty handed? Rhea might be capable of it, but he's no skilled brawler, and no great mage. This could go very wrong, very quickly, if she chose to bare steel.

Even aside from his defenselessness, though..... It's the only explanation that makes sense. Byleth has green hair and eyes now, after all. Of course this couldn't be her, even if the woman before him wasn't an Empire soldier. Blue hair and eyes aren't exactly uncommon, either; surely there are plenty of young women who resemble Byleth in Fodlan. There are no doubt plenty of men who resemble him, as well. Seteth clears his throat, shifting his arms for a proper bow and trying to ignore the way it makes his towel drag on the sand.]

My name is Seteth. I am currently acting as chief aide to the Queen, and provisional leader of the Central Church. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss.....?

[ queen? what queen? fódlan has only its emperor now. the church may still exist, but... is this some weird trick? of course he knows exactly who she is, and vice versa. what could he gain by pleading ignorance now?

it hasn't quite clicked for her that with his implication he serves her, he thinks of byleth as the queen in this case. give it a second. ]

I know who you are. [ but if he insists on playing this game... she'll lean on the scraps of diplomatic protocol it was insisted she learn for meetings during the war. ] I am General Byleth Eisner of the Imperial Adrestian Army, marshal of the Empire and commander of the Black Eagle Strike Force. I serve Her Imperial Majesty, the Emperor Edelgard.

[ the war may be over, but only barely—a matter of days. none of the apparatus she's been placed in command of has been undone. byleth's jaw sets, as she squarely looks him in the eye. ]

As you know, Cichol.

Edited 2020-10-24 22:48 (UTC)

[His expression may stay composed, but there's no disguising the flash of pain and betrayal in his eyes; she may as well have drawn her sword and pierced his heart on the spot. If this is a nightmare, it's a strange one, not to mention a cruel one. But if it's some manner of sorcery instead? If this is somehow indeed her truth, juxtaposed against his own? Even worse. He doesn't want to contemplate the idea that Byleth could be capable of the sort of atrocities he'd witnessed, during those long years of travel--let alone the idea that she could ever work alongside, possibly even command the dastards who had kidnapped and tortured Flayn.

Either way, it's pointless to protest or argue, isn't it? Her certainty in this madness won't be shaken by him merely declaring her wrong. And to anger her without a means to defend himself would be a fool's errand; interrogation is out of the question. Nothing he can do right now could possibly make any difference. Seteth shakes his head, lips pressing into a thin line as he turns to go. Anywhere is fine, at least for now, so long as it's not here.]

.....I see we truly are strangers, after all. If you will excuse me, General, I should be taking my leave.

[ yeah, that's to be expected. byleth had forgotten how seteth can be, but she doesn't want to just let this go. she truly wants to take advantage of this opportunity, even if they both look like drowned rats right now.

byleth removes her hand from her waterlogged swordbelt, holding it up as turns to go. her tone and expression both soften. ]

Seteth, wait. Please. [ she... may as well use that name, if he'll continue to insist upon it. she undoes the clasps for her swordbelt, letting it and the sheathed blade fall to the sand. ] I only want to talk.

Edited 2020-10-25 01:20 (UTC)

What could we possibly have to discuss? It seems I know nothing about you, after all. It only stands to reason, then, that you could know nothing about me.

[The answers they sought together, the impossible battles she had miraculously guided them through, the resolve they shared--in her eyes, they never happened, did they? He's merely an enemy soldier, to be struck down and then spared--perhaps the one moment of compassion she may have shown during the entire campaign of brutal conquest that she commanded.

The soft thump of Byleth's sword hitting the sand is ignored. He should ignore that plea just as soundly, now that he's certain they have nothing to do with each other. So why is he hesitating?]

I'm not the man whose life you spared, General. And you're not the woman I serve. Perhaps we should leave it at that.

... Before the war, I rescued and taught Flayn as one of my students. You had promised me, before the Holy Tomb, that you would help me find answers about myself.

[ she helped him massacre his own devotees to protect his cover, she resists the urge to say. byleth won't pretend that she feels nothing but warmth for him—even placing his own actions aside, it's complicated and overshadowed by the awful tangle of hatred she can't help but feel towards seiros. still, she's reasonably certain that seteth wasn't involved or aware of the full scope of all the archbishop had done over the centuries; her father hadn't known him, after all.

but she can't be sure. ]

I don't know when or where I might see the Seteth I know again. But if you're anything like him, then...

I've done the best I can, given the circumstances.

[But not for her. Not for someone who would both work alongside the Death Knight, and raise her own blade against Flayn. Does she honestly believe this--this other him would be willing to speak with her, after witnessing that? If they had truly been wounded so gravely, he surely would have gone to ground. Somewhere safe and remote where Flayn could recover in peace--perhaps even somewhere outside of Fodlan entirely, to shelter them against the war. How exactly does she think she would find them, to try and force him to make good on his promise?

Goddess, but he doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to be discussing this. He doesn't even want to think about this hypothetical nightmare scenario. He should be orchestrating reconstruction efforts, not chatting with someone who had evidently helped carry out all that destruction to begin with. Seteth scrubs wearily at his face, circlet knocked askew under his hand.]

Perhaps you should ask your allies about it?

[ she doesn't know what she's hoping to achieve here. and really, when it comes to the seteth at home... she hadn't thought that far ahead.

he's right with one unspoken thing, though. this is pointless. ]

... Perhaps I should. You knew what that monster did to me, protected her every lie—so why should I trust a word you say?

[ the words are cold, clumsy and cruel—but she doesn't care. ]

All your family cares about is control.

All I knew was that you robbed Rhea of her senses. Everything she did concerning you was utterly incomprehensible. We fought over you, did you know that? We almost never fight. I--

[Seteth's voice rises, shriller, strained, not unlike how it had the month Flayn had gone missing. He catches himself now, forces a few deep, steadying breaths to center himself. Getting upset over this won't help either of them, will it?]

.....I know very little about the abhorrent magic that must have created you, and what I do know, I yearn to forget. That is a forbidden knowledge your Agarthan friends may still possess. If you can't trust anything I say, then you're only wasting both our time and breath here. Go to Shambhala, General.

[ agarthan is an unfamiliar term. but it's not hard to guess what he's referring to. ]

After all they've done, all they've taken, you think— [ she's honestly dumbfounded at that. seteth opening up about that is news to her, but— ]

We held them at bay and won the war without them. Those monsters are as much our enemies as the Church was... we just were in no position to move against them in full, before.

Edited 2020-11-01 14:02 (UTC)

They fought for the Imperial army, which means they fought for you, General. You were bedfellows with the men who killed your father, who abducted Flayn, who destroyed Remire Village. Whatever excuses you may have had for not raising your sword against them from the start, that doesn't change the fact that you joined hands with them to slaughter all who opposed the Empire.

[Seteth's lips twist in disgust at that. Hubert's letter had implied the partnership wasn't in good faith, but even so--the idea that Byleth could stomach working with such monsters at all, yet not believe him..... It truly does illustrate how little she must think of him, doesn't it?]

Interrogate their mages, if you want to learn their secrets. Or search their stronghold, if it still stands. It can only be the fruits of their sins that inspired Rhea's madness--she wouldn't answer my questions. Perhaps you'll have better luck.

[ how dare he? how fucking dare he— ]

You don't know what you're talking about.

[ that's... the nicest way she can say that. about most of what seteth just said. still, it comes out like ice. ]

We were forced to endure them while we did the only thing we could to take the world back. I have never commanded them, and the Empire hasn't called on their power since the Holy Tomb.

I joined hands with Edelgard, with my students. With Alois, Shamir, Manuela, Hanneman. With those who saw me as a person, not a thing.

[ max recruitment run baybeeeeee ]

If that is your truth, then you appear to be out of options, General. I bid you luck finding a trustworthy and knowledgeable source of information.

[He appears to be neither at this point, after all. If that's truly how the war went for her, then who's to even say that what scattered fragments of knowledge and educated guesses he has would even be correct in her case? Byleth should be spending this time finding someone or something she can believe in. And him--he should be searching for a way to get back to Flayn and the others--to his Byleth, and his Fodlan.]

Now, if there's nothing else, I should be on my way.

[ no. even if they can't get somewhere productive...

if nothing else, she wants him to hurt. ]

I killed Seiros.

[ the words come simply, sharply, before seteth can leave. there is so much bottled up resentment and bitterness that has had nowhere to go, about all of this, and this shade of seteth has only stirred it up more.

byleth knows she should stop. this is pointless, she knows that. but it's satisfying. ]

The mad beast burned Fhirdiad rather than surrender, and Edelgard and I killed her for it. For all that she'd done. All of the countless lives that your family have destroyed over the centuries, and for what, Seteth? Revenge, or just cowardice?

Edited 2020-11-10 06:29 (UTC)

[He doesn't stop walking. He doesn't turn around. His shoulders draw together, his chest tightens under the vice grip of her words, his stomach knots in fresh revulsion--but there's nothing he can do about it. About any of it. Edelgard and the Empire are triumphant, Rhea is dead, he and Flayn are maimed and left alive out of pity or sheer spite, Byleth has been corrupted, the Goddess' grace has faded from her..... and Dimitri and Claude? Who knows. Probably also slaughtered at her hands. It isn't as though he can exactly go and check now, is it? Let alone attempt to make things right.

She sounds so proud of herself. She probably took joy in the slaughter, didn't she? Of course she did. The Empire kills everything it touches now, she had to have learned a taste for bloodshed. Or maybe she had never needed to learn it, and his queen had simply willingly surrendered such cruelty--Hanneman had spoken once of the "Ashen Demon" moniker, back when he had first attempted to research the pair. What in the Goddess' name had driven Hanneman back into the Empire's arms, when he had sworn never to return? This degenerate butcher has no charisma to speak of, after all.]

Yes, well done. You've won. Congratulations. Is that what you wanted to hear?

[She won't listen to his answers, so it only stands to reason she won't answer his questions. Why in the world would Rhea want to burn Fhirdiad to the ground? Whose lives did he supposedly destroy, when, and why? Who knows? There's no point in trying to make sense of it anymore. All he needs to know is that Nemesis seems to have found himself a truly worthy heir at long last.]

[ she finds that she has no room for pity. sympathy, empathy, mercy, kindness—all of these things are there. but pity? no. people make their choices, and they either see them through to the end or carve a piece of themselves away, lessen themselves in the process. the consequences will be whatever they must be. seteth might think her monstrous. she's sure he does. but she is herself, and she can't imagine his queen has ever been able to say the same.

the ashen demon came by the title honestly. she had been what seiros made her, after all. a doll with its mind and soul suppressed by a heart of stone, ready to get on stage and say its lines, accept the soul poured into it and kill as easily as it breathed. distantly, she recalls a story about a sculptor whose creation was brought to life by the spirits, and though he had loved her in his way, her growing humanity disgusted him. ]

I don't know! [ byleth snaps that at last, frustrated, voice cracking. she doesn't know what she wants to hear. her voice is... relatively flat, but her expressions and inflection are still a bit more dynamic than seteth may be used to from his byleth. ] I don't understand you. How could you stand by her, after all she's done? For no one's sake but her own? I thought you were better than that.

Of course you don't understand. All I do, I do it to protect people. That's all.

[How could someone who joyfully heaped corpses to make a throne ever understand what it meant to be born to serve and protect, to guide and nurture? His existence itself was both proof of and a vessel for the Goddess' love--love she had somehow been completely unmoved by, in spite of being touched by it. He does what he was made for, because--simply because he was made to do so, perhaps. Or because he longed to help convey those sentiments to the humans who could no longer meet Her. Or because he wanted to make Her happy. Or maybe he'd simply inherited Her feelings himself. Humans are wonderful, terrible creatures, and whether they still deserve it or not--he wants to do right by them, even if it seems as though he and Flayn are the only ones left willing to carry out such work.]

I don't know why Rhea did what she did to you. I can't say I approve of it. But then, I can't say I know what tales Edelgard has been feeding you regarding her, either. If you can't understand why family would support each other.....

[ she shakes her head, expression darkening. ]

You don't understand—it isn't just what she did to me. [ is he really this blind? he must know this—he's too smart not to know this. ] Was sending students to kill a militia—sending Ashe to kill his own father—protecting people, because it was meant to terrorize Fódlan's next rulers into obedience? Was lying about the Crests protecting people, or protecting yourselves?

[ a thought occurs to her, something like horror creeping into her expression. ]

Is that how you justified the massacre at Rhodos? Is killing your own devotees somehow for humanity's own good, just because it protected your cover?

Ashe was never burdened with that task. That fell to the Golden Deer, not the Blue Lions.

[Just like Sylvain was never asked to kill his own brother. Faerghus kids really got the short end of the stick, didn't they?]

Nobody is hurt more by war than the common people whose lives are shattered underfoot when they're dragged into the conflict. It is not a pleasant duty, but if quenching a few sparks stops a fire, then I will do what I must.

[He's absolutely that blind. As long as it's reasonably justifiable and not absolutely insane, he'll trust that big sis knows best and is acting in everyone's best interests.]

As for the crests--we never asked to be butchered. Your Agarthan comrades can tell you all about them.

[ she'll... circle back to the comments about the lions and the deer. it doesn't make sense to her but it's tangential. ]

We'll exterminate those who slither in the dark soon enough.

[ there's a sort of horrified contempt to her voice now, though. a quiet, simmering anger steadily rises. ]

So you pass them off as gifts from Sothis, and do nothing as children are cast out and women are treated as breeding stock, as children are carved open and killed, because you elevated the Crests to be all that matters. Based on a lie. [ byleth takes a breath. ] Seteth, Seiros's works horrified Sothis. She never trusted her, in all the time I heard her voice.

Everything Seiros claimed to do in her mother's name was for herself. How can you not see that?

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TDM 006: SPECTRAL SPECTACLE

00. Arrival

I. The Dragon's Matchmaking

II. Ruins

III. Ritual

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