They obeyed.
There was debate, internal, gathering like a orchestra. Instruments lone in a room prepping to be played, a waiting silence poised at the tip of a question. (Or many, to be fair, starting with who are you?)
All Gradielle recognized was that this presence was superior to them in some way significant enough to barter respect and haste in the shaky, weakened floating towards the fractured frozen visage.
Elle had a lot of trust and a lot of lack to good judgement where it be placed. They could only hope that this time it wouldn’t break their heart, and take a world down with them.
“Okay, I’m.. I’m here. What do I do?” Number 76 asked aloud.
@harmonyraised〘 the divine. 〙
Trepidation shed its casings for true natures that lay beneath. The entity, had it the pride to show of chest to puff would have done so. Their precious Gradielle. Not theirs at all in truth, but by the most ingrain bonds, the seed of a splendid flower that their blood had sown.
( “The song of your heart will soothe the ache. Your kind hands, close the wound before you. Trust your power. Our hearts are as one.”)
With those words spoken, the nature of the entity became known. Old as time, but familiar and warm, like the embrace of kin. Sigils lit white rearranged themselves into modern astral language, which a choir of one hundred muttered in unison to none but Elle’s ears. The recreation of a god, using parts new and old. It need only the key, the permissions of those authorized to complete. This ‘key’ was offered without doubt or hesitation to Number 76.
(“Seal it closed with myself as your suture. Move me with your will.”)
The small golden number accepted the task. Warring with responsibility and feeling its sense of unworthy. "I will. I will. I promise. I am- I'm sorry," He looked at the glaze of metal, shining through the trembling cage of his fingers. "I'm very sorry." He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. He wanted not to hurt anyone still. "I only wanted..."
It dared not be said. It was not ready to be reopened. So Gradielle only silently cried, and let his tears rain little starlights onto the pendant in his hand.
"Sir." Gradielle allowed the key to be pressed onto the curve of his neckline, cradled close, where it took on his own glow. Brightening. Brighter still.
He did not know if he should say this, but; "If it is in your will... Please forgive them."
Whatever had happened, there was not any true being of evil. Only pain or fear that one lets grow so intense it turns violent. Elle did not believe in a true evil person. (He wondered if, maybe, that meant this believe was given from the Original.)
He would not dare to ask anyone be further unharmed, that wish came from the same place in Gradielle's heart that had sung along to Black Mist's musical lies. A place Elle now knew he could not trust. But.
There were no beings of evil, but there were acts of it. And that is just as blinding to its user as it was to their victim.
"Though they may not know it... I think they all, some way in their own hearts... were tricked like me too."
