cir·cu·i·tous adjective: sər-ˈkyü-ə-təs 1. having a circular or winding course (a circuitous route) 2. not being forthright or direct in language or action (a circuitous explanation) an·tip·a·thy noun: an-ˈti-pə-thē 1. obsolete; opposition in feeling 2. settled aversion or dislike 3. an object of aversion ------------ Your name is John and you 「Wrap your text to leave a hint as to what you really mean.」
((It has certainly been long enough. I recommend listening to this for the beginning, this for the fight, and then this at the end while reading.))
This wasn’t how you wanted it to end. In the back of your mind you knew that it would one day come to this, but you had hoped it would not be so soon. It wasn’t supposed to be so soon. You weren’t….you were never supposed to fight her, the Maid and the Prince were supposed to deal with her in the end. Another necessary mental trauma you would engineer to push them just so, so that they would do what was needed to be done. Now though, now that is impossible, for together you and she have doomed the session to being just another in a long line of failed realities.
Strangely enough you find yourself not caring about the fate of the Game for once. No, all that matters as you hold the corpse of your love is the all-consuming blackness that is pouring from your core. Often, in days long past, you would insist to TC that you never got angry, not really, and by your meaning that was true. To you anger was about levels of the acceptability of your actions. Certainly you would become annoyed or frustrated and it would show in your tone becoming angered but to you that wasn’t true anger. For you true anger was a black pit, an aching need to do violence upon that which hurt you in any ways you could. It was that visceral desire to reach out and grasp your enemies and rend them to shreds with your bear hands. It was a dark hole in your heart that has always been there. One that you had hoped you would never fall into again, not after the things you had done when you were younger.
But now? Now you let the hate and Rage fill you. You let that deep and dark ocean of raw anger fill you to the brim and wash away any other feeling. You would no longer be able to stop. You would no longer care for the fate of your universe. The Singer’s end was nigh, and that was the only thing you believed in.
In the end, you didn’t need to go out of your way to find her; after you took care of your love’s funeral she was waiting for you above the planet. “Monstrous” was the only thing that would come to mind when you looked upon her terrible form. A multitude of wings made from the energy of pure Hope arced around her body while a baleful white light seemed to wish to escape from her very flesh. You think back to descriptions of angels in the bible, and how the Singer would now fit along well with those created to kill demons in ancient times. She was not alone of course, the Singer’s chorus of corrupted players were arrayed about her as if they were the Heavenly Host, come to cleanse the Earth of its sins.
Of course, in the end it matters little to you how many players you have to kill. You had planned on hunting them down anyways after dealing with their Singer, and having them all here saves you the trouble. As you float leisurely towards the Host of angels, the Singer’s smile splits her cheeks in an unnaturally large smile, her joy at your arrival clear on her inhuman features. She says something, sweeping her hands out to the other angels around her, but you don’t take the time to decipher her speech, the black pit in your soul hungers for her death and you are more than willing to grant its desire. Rage fills you, but it does not clash with your Hope. No, for once a clear purpose is laid out before you and a thousand ways to achieve it flash through your mind. Yes, you think to yourself, the first order of business would be to crush the smirk off of her face.
It occurs to you that in her hubris the Singer had forgotten just what you were the Lord of, and as you raise your hand towards her Host you remind her. Reaching out to the angelic army, you clench your fist and reach out with your will. Hope comes to your call and molds itself to your belief. Within seconds the power of hope that saturated the lesser angels is ripped from their bodies, their lifeless corpses now nothing more than so much meat as you destroy them from the inside. As you turn your attention to the singer though, you are forced to step back as her sword of black fire arcs through where your head had been a moment ago. Your evasion of her is not complete though as her sword severs your outstretched arm as simply as one would slice butter. You meet her eyes calmly, your Rage hidden within the depths of your soul and you see her own grin falter. The Singer had never truly fought you and had no idea of what you were really capable of, something you planned to school her on. 「Fiction Sonata」, you tell her 「My arm was cut off by your sword」. Instantly your arm was back where it belonged, looking to all the world as if you had never lost it. You watch the realization flash across her visage as you gather Hope in your hand, unleashing a lance of white magic directly at her heart. You are too slow of course, by the time you targeted her she was already teleporting away. But that was fine with you, your class powers weren’t the only trump card you had.
You it takes you all of two seconds to access your sylladex and pull out the Already Speared, and in that time frame she was already activating a card you knew would cause your death if you did not kill her fast enough. That was fine though, with this spear you had all the Time in the world to pierce her heart. 「You know…」,you say, 「I don’t believe you’re ever seen me use this have you?」. You listen to her say something in the angel tongue but don’t even bother trying to understand it, the Singer was already dead, you just hadn’t thrown the spear yet. There was no Time like the present though and with a feeling of satisfaction you threw your god-weapon at her. As you threw the spear, the weapon’s ability activated. And before the spear even left your hands it had pierced the Singer’s heart, barbs growing from its spear-tip to destroy nearly every part of her body from the inside out.The fight is over then, her corpse tumbling backwards, dead before she ever had the chance to activate a healing card from her deck. You watch her float off impassively. There is no joy, no celebration in your mind for you have long since left your heart behind. You leave your spear in her chest because it does not matter what sort of power you hold now. Everything was doomed in the end.
You head back down to where you love rests and you lay down beside her to wait for the inevitable end.「I was always the tragic sort of hero wasn’t I?」
Everything is ruined, you know, when the second frog is destroyed. They had thought it a secret. The Maid had played her little game and all the while you had watched and waited, biding your time until the very end. Because after all you need not lift a single finger they were capable enough.
You wish you hadn’t lied to yourself.
The Star was possessed by the Singer. She was a lost cause, worth nothing to the timeline now that her agency was destroyed. She had become less of a person now; nothing but a piece of the board to use against everyone. But you were fine with that even though there was a small twinge in your heart over having ordered this. You had ordered the Singer to take her and fly off after all, so it had to have been necessary even though you still don’t know why.
In complete pictures of the future were all you had now so close to the end of this universe and even now you were unsure of what to do. It was this hesitance that cost you for you were caught unawares as the Singer struck. You had anticipated action by the Thief, she was so obvious in what she did that you didn’t even need to look ahead to guess the outcome. Or so you had thought. You didn’t know how she found out about the second frog and you don’t care. As you arrive at the location that held the infant universe you are shocked to find not the Thief but the Star. Her body blazes with white light as the Hope she draws from the Signer corrupts her body even more than it already is. You look at her feet and see the eviscerated corpse of the Genesis Frog and it was at that moment that you knew you were Doomed. “Why?” You ask, “Do you realize what you’ve done?” She doesn’t answer, too far gone into her role as an angel of the Choir. A rage flares up within you, a black and inky feeling of hate that claws at your soul. It has always been there, a part of you that just wanted to grab her neck and twist until the blood seeps through the skin but you held it back at other times. Acting out on your anger to hurt and to tear those who brought your ire would only lead to your downfall.
Your self-preservation had always won out over your anger but now there was nothing to lose.
For the first time in years you give into your anger, that visceral urge to strike out at those who hurt you. You move quickly towards the Star, a blast of White Magic at your feet sending you hurtling at her. Before she can react you backhand her through a wall, smiling viciously as the sound of breaking bones. You casually walk through the impromptu door you had made and approach her as you see her struggling to get up. Before you can rise to her feet you kick her in the head, sending her back to the ground in pain. You meander over to her again, intent on utterly crushing the insect in front of you when to points at you shakily with her outstretched hand. White Magic lances out from her, Hope made manifest to destroy you. You do not stop your stroll and smile madly as the energy washes over you with no effect. You can see the horror dawning on her face as your blatant display of immunity to the destructive and corruptive over saturation of Hope she has send your way. In her expression your see the fear of an infinite Choir of angels and it feeds your hate.
Within less than a second you arrive at her location and stare at her. With a smile you stomp on her chest and rash several of her ribs. “Did you think you could stop me with myself? I am the Lord of Hope.” You say and you summon your spear and stab her through her collar bone. “I am Hope itself!” It is a savage feeling to end someone’s life. There is a very personal feeling of watching someone’s life fade from their eyes. You experience it here and your violent ministrations finally take their toll. The lacerations have bled her out and now there is no return. You are Justice incarnate; cruel and uncaring save that evil be destroyed. Looking up at the stars at night from where you are, you can’t help but wonder why their light is so empty.
"Ow! Ow! Ow! Hot as shit fuck!" you yell as you fan your mouth. Who the hell heated cocoa to 250 degrees? No seriously what the fuck? You stare balefully at Gambit as she beams at you. she is obviously proud of her concoction and you don't have the heart to tell her it taste like sewage water." 「 Its delicious. 」" You lie as you try and hide your pain. You can quickly tell that she knows exactly how you feel and is smiling all the wider for it. "I'm glad you like it! Here have some more." She refills your cup staring you straight in the eyes as she does so.
You glare at her, meeting her eyes directly as you drink the cup of death just to make a point.
You are glad for Fiction Sonata. Without the ability to undo this damage you don't even know what you'd do.
Once a little Heir filled with Rage met a Prince, a little girl scarred by her ill Light. The girl introduced him to her group and took him in while they played a Game. The Little Heir only knew of solitude and pain and latched onto the Prince. She rejected him and hurt him and yet things never ended. He berated her and drove her away and yet came back to her. They forgave one another and fought for the sake of all Creation. When the war was over they gained their reward and spent eternity together. For them, it did not have to be perfect. For them the reward was just what they needed.
The two of them stayed with one another, having found something that they never had.
( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGGh7F4Xt1E )It’s coming ever slowly closer now; that future that you dread. At first it was a small sound of a breaking heart drowning ever deeper within the darkness but now it is a silence; vast and unending. You were fine in the beginning. Sure, you were afraid of the future but you did not know it. you did not greet the morrow like a long lost lover. You did not know it’s intimate secrets is if you were its dearest friend. Now you do though and you weep for the innocence lost.
In the beginning you were giddy for power. You were a Lord of the brightest Hope and you believed in a future worth fighting for. You had a Maid of Light by your side, a bubbly, cheerful woman who loved you despite your faults. She loved you despite your inability to control your emotions; she loved you even when you were afraid of the dark. She loved you laughter, your sadness, your joy, your determination, and your swiftly flowing thoughts.
The two of you played on your planet of Pulse and Mirth surrounded by fireflies made of souls that danced to the music of the afterlife. You celebrated in the menagerie of colors that your land provided and you thought it would continue for as long as needed.
But then an Angel descended upon you and taught you the secrets of the future and you were lost.
He gave you a tool to know what was to come and showed you what would happen if you failed….what you knew would happen eventually. You fought of course, like He knew you would and you were defeated. He was a power so beyond even that of a regular Lord; as crass as it is to define such a thing. In the end he forced you to LISTEN and you knew you had to do his will. For if Paradox Space was to be preserved, terrible things would have to be done.
And so you killed. You killed and killed and killed and killed until your soul was steeped in blood. You manipulated and acted behind the scenes, the carefully cultivated persona you assumed made it easy to use the others around you. But even after all this she loved you.
But she did not understand.
She rarely does, you realize at some point. She has preconceived notions that are inviolate just the same as you. Thus you know that if she knew what you did she would stop you and you could not allow that to happen. Even if it was painful, you would have to hide it. And so you did. It was only at the very end did she finally discover what you had done.
It was while the universe was crashing down around the two of you that she confronted you. It was mere minutes before the Scratch that you had to kill her. Truthfully you will never forgive yourself for what you were forced to do. He spoke with you earlier that day and tortured you with what he would do to her. He showed you her mangled corpse from another timeline. He forced your hand.
She saw you soon after with Him and the two of you fought. She was a woman made of Luck. If it was allowable within Fate then she could do it. But Hope does not concern itself with Fate and Reality and as it’s Lord you are far beyond her. It is over in a moment. One second she is trying to stab your eyes out with her strife specibus and the next your spear is through her heart. Her death is not instant and a dark part of you is glad for this. Because it is not instant you can see the look in her eyes as she dies and you will torment yourself forever with it. She stares into your soul as she passes on and tells you that she loves you.
You stand now alone in the universe. The Scratch is descending upon you, it’s movement through Paradox Space sounds like a perfect death knoll in your head. You do not sit idle now for you have only tens of minutes to spare before it is too late. He has left this universe now for a different place, thinking that he has won but you know better. He may be the inevitability of Time but you are the chance that lies within Hope. So you gather Hope within you and shape it. You gather the karmic weight of forty thousand dead players and make two things; a message and a calling.
Your message will reach out far into space and time to contact a First Guardian who will protect your people. And the calling? The calling will effect the very fabric of space and time itself. It will reach deep within the minds of the players and restore their memories. You begin with a Prince and change her nature. She will be a Guide, a repository from which all knowledge will return.
It is enough, you think as your body begins to deteriorate. Your last act has taken a toll on you and now you are dying as your soul has torn itself apart. As the wall of white rushes towards you, seeking to erase your very existence you smile fully and completely for once in your life.
"So even now you love me? Well of course Princess, I love you too."(This is something that has been on my mind for a while now. For those of you who don’t know already, this is actually the mostly canon backstory of CA from the original SBARG. I was the Lord English that killed the Genesis Frog and so I integrated him into my own story with the SBARG mods’ permission. Some of you might remember some of the stuff from the very beginning, right before SCODE started where I played the CA from SBARG talking to you all from the past right before the Scratch happened. Well here it is. This is what happened.)
Tell me: Song-- a secret for a secret; that's only fair.
(Since Mason doesn't have a blog I'll just post his and Yoko's asks here.)
She is looking at you now, wondering if you’re going to say anything back to her. Her bitter feelings are like ashes on your tongue, full of dead things that aren’t quite gone yet. It’s a feeling that reminds you of dark nights alone in the desert with only your regrets to keep you company. You look away from her and turn to face the pitch black void of space that draws in on Song’s little battleship like moths to a flame. You can almost feel her frown at you as you do so and you feel a weird dichotomy inside as you simultaneously give an internal wince and feel the need to give yourself a pat on the back. You’re glad that your ability to sense how others feel has grown but you wish you had this realization at a better time. The two of you settle back into silence for a while, neither of you seeing the need to speak about anything just enjoying each other’s company; however little that amounted to. It was….nice you supposed. You still didn’t get why people interacted with each other sometimes but you enjoyed being around Song. She didn’t make you feel like the outsider you were to everyone else. “I killed him you know.” It comes unbidden from you and causes her to look at you again. You can hear the unasked question in the air as she stares quizzically at you. “My Brother.” You keep looking resolutely ahead, your gaze distant as you remember. The taste of sand in your mouth is overpowering, a memory of life in a barren wasteland. To your surprise she is shocked for once before schooling her expression. You both know you saw her reaction but the two of you pretend it never happened. “It was a routine raid on a caravan skirting the border of the wasteland. They were more heavily armed than we thought and even though we took nearly all of them out, three of them made it to us and forced close combat.” You close your eyes, your tone becoming more clinical. “The three kicked up a lot of dust and no one could tell who was who but we kept on fighting anyways. I got in a fight with one of them, a big guy about twice my height. He swept out my legs and beat my face in till I couldn’t see out of one eye.” You stop then and wince, this one you couldn’t keep inside of you. You know Song saw it and the embarrassment burns you. “In the haze of the pain I just….snapped. It was like a red mist fell over my vision and when I came to everyone was dead.” You stop before continuing on. “Everyone. My Bro included. I killed him with my own hands.” The weight of your crime leans heavily on you and you finally think you understand Song’s bitterness. It’s the bitterness of a life forced to be cruel.
She places her hand on yours then and you let her. It’s nice you muse, not to be alone.
She is like a star you think, as you float in her direction with trepidation. A wrathful star filled with nothing but agony and hate as she rages across the incipisphere. You wonder if she realizes what she is doing; that she has become a light of the Heavens to replace her own lost Star. You consider that she might before immediately discarding the idea. She wasn’t so self-conscious to purposely create such symbolism of her own will. You fly towards her then, settling on mitigating the damage that she is dealing rather than eliminating her as a source of conflict. She is still useful after all and you would hate to doom yourself before it is time. In minutes you find yourself directly in the path of her rampage. Most would be panicking at this point but you find that you don’t care. She is controllable in nearly any state. She approaches you then in all her angelic fury. Once she has spotted you she homes in on your form, her anger made manifest through the blindingly bright light of Hope which burns away reality itself. You stand tall against her rage and let it break upon you. The light does nothing; you are immune to Hope for you are Hope itself made whole.
You gently cup her face then and bring her close to you. Your arms wrap around her as she finally loses control completely, her power lashing out at your body and tearing it to shreds. But it is not enough; you simply make the damage a lie and continue holding her as she lets out the pain of all of her losses at last. This is enough you tell yourself. It is the least you can do.
There is a sound that shatters the silence, a wretched, wanting noise of grief and loss that echoes through the Void of timeless horrors. You hear it then on an off-chance, the brush of angel wings over the writhing darkness that cloys against your soul. It is full of rage you can tell. It is a sound of mourning, of love, of greed, and of loss. It is the sound of a little girl breaking like glass beneath the light of your Hope as she dies a thousand ways. It is the timbre of a thousand lost souls claiming you as their own. You do not run. You accept your burden. For it is the heroes that die first and the cowards that live forever.
Once there was a little Lord who held all of the Hope of the world. By his side was an Angel, a Singer of an Infinite Choir. Together they twisted reality to their whim and laughed gleefully as they wreaked destruction. One day amidst the light of winged monstrosities the Lord spoke to the Thief.
“I am afraid of the dark.” He says.
“I am afraid to be alone.” She replies.
“I wanted to be a hero.” He confesses.
“I wanted to be loved.” She mourns.
Together two lights flit through the darkness both without and within.
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