(to be embraced by the void is nostalgic. having presided over it as its god, lessa, perhaps the most equanimous inductee, bides awhile in his mineral cocoon. returned to nothing, spread like threads of dark matter through the universe, it is perhaps the first time in a millennium he's felt whole. sad, unavoidably; the world ra created, the world he and his son grew to love together, has been yielded once more to the unending cosmos as stardust. there is a great tragedy in shedding these attachments, and there is simultaneously—contrarily, selfishly—an overwhelming relief that the wide canvas of his past mistakes has been gessoed and primed for something new.
unfortunately, deep sleep can never be long enough. there is a struggle happening beyond dreams that seduces him awake once more, too curious to resist. after peeling himself from his crystal to walk unsteadily through the glittering nursery, through the area of the kenoma sect's lodestone, and through throngs of pitiable patients of the black sludge, lessa's slow march brings him to a righteous halt before a man's struggle becomes evident in the hush that's fallen since the aions' arrivals.
it is no business of mine, lessa thinks. what isn't ingested now will be ingested later, as the laws of the world will now apply to them. they will follow or they will perish, a choice that's no more right or wrong than any made before or after. the abuse is, while unwelcome, fleeting and unavoidable.
why he expected his body to obey his mind's fatalism is unclear, but the writhing flame set, restrained and set upon by several men, reminds him of the reason he first sank to the earth. someone in his sphere of influence needs help and no soul present will go to him, preferring to give into the lethargy their despairing brings and watch the spectacle with hollow eyes.)
Unhand him, (he demands, unable to turn away. a flex of his abilities promises him that they no longer function well, but they haven't ceased to work entirely. in the time it takes the acamite members to respond, their location has been altered by a few simple feet to the adjacent walkway cleared of huddled bodies, space itself seeming to distort to shift them across lessa's horizon.
lessa reaches down for set, offering further aid.)
the potion :smirk:
unfortunately, deep sleep can never be long enough. there is a struggle happening beyond dreams that seduces him awake once more, too curious to resist. after peeling himself from his crystal to walk unsteadily through the glittering nursery, through the area of the kenoma sect's lodestone, and through throngs of pitiable patients of the black sludge, lessa's slow march brings him to a righteous halt before a man's struggle becomes evident in the hush that's fallen since the aions' arrivals.
it is no business of mine, lessa thinks. what isn't ingested now will be ingested later, as the laws of the world will now apply to them. they will follow or they will perish, a choice that's no more right or wrong than any made before or after. the abuse is, while unwelcome, fleeting and unavoidable.
why he expected his body to obey his mind's fatalism is unclear, but the writhing flame set, restrained and set upon by several men, reminds him of the reason he first sank to the earth. someone in his sphere of influence needs help and no soul present will go to him, preferring to give into the lethargy their despairing brings and watch the spectacle with hollow eyes.)
Unhand him, (he demands, unable to turn away. a flex of his abilities promises him that they no longer function well, but they haven't ceased to work entirely. in the time it takes the acamite members to respond, their location has been altered by a few simple feet to the adjacent walkway cleared of huddled bodies, space itself seeming to distort to shift them across lessa's horizon.
lessa reaches down for set, offering further aid.)
Rise, young man; I won't let them harm you.