02. (Week One)

[tequila_sunset]

[will link Harry’s TL with his altars here when posted, available to be prayed at, vandalized, etc]

Out of the murmur comes an image: an altar made of tires and chains and cinderblocks. Decorated with multicolored feathers and the cleaned bones of hosts. Crowned in antlers made majestic with their twisted metal branches. An assortment of candles sit around the base, flickering with a gentle and inviting light.

An image isn’t the only thing being transferred in this moment. It comes messy with the residue of Harry’s feelings. (A tumultuous mass of mismatched colors and limbs that tear and bite at each other.) He’s nervous, absolutely terrified of what’s to come upon them all, and afraid he’ll be turned away, mocked-

HALF LIGHT - (Stop! Stop! This is a horrible idea. They’re only going to yell at you.)

-but there’s a hope. That if he does right it’ll all be worth it. Nausea boils in his stomachs. Rejection is painful, scary. It’s cold.

His rough voice echoes as if coming from many mouths:

“I invite any and all of you to come worship with me. The world is splitting, its fragile seams are tearing open all around us. The world ends again. The end of ends comes.”

Speaking of her calms the noisy background chaos of his mind. All can feel it: a deep love for Sleep, and the time he’s spent with her.

“You can offer her what you want, your hope, your past, your blood. I once gave her a memory of a song…sharing that with her was wonderful.”

He falls into a nervous silence, not totally sure what to anticipate.

Comments

[paravore]

[ There's some about this message in the Murmur that 'Hikaru' can't help but pay attention to. He normally ignores the stream of intrusive voices and feelings, but something about this one... ]

Cool altar. It's like somethin' out of a movie.

[tequila_sunset]

“Is that a good kind of cool?”

He likes movies, or liked them. He doesn’t really remember them exactly, just enjoying the watching of movies. So that’s a positive connotation to him but what if it’s bad to this guy? Youths are especially mysterious creatures.

[paravore]

Yeah, totally. Yer going all out.

[ It's kinda funny. 'Hikaru' knows this pageantry isn't required or expected to make Sleep happy, but... maybe the theatrics are part of the process for this guy? ]

I'll come over. Where are ya?

[sorte]

[ he's not laughing but he sure is worried. He knew something was going on, but now it's very obvious. ]

Harry... oh, Harry, damn it.

[tequila_sunset]

“Hey Aventurine! It’s cool, I'm fine. I mean I'm not hurt. Yet. I'm fucking scared. This is crazy. What happens next is going to be worse.”

He would like for them all to survive it.

[eidxiety]

[He gets it. When Harry's feelings slam into his, Ain meets them with commiseration and agreement, quiet under the tumult. He loves Her too. She gave him a new purpose after he came here, like the mother he never really had.]

I'll worship with you.

[tequila_sunset]

“Awesome!”

Theres the distinct impression of a tail wagging, slapping the ground a little. Thwap.

“I’m at…”

An assortment of images and impressions, to relay the exact location. Way handier than using street names in his opinion.

[merged]

[ Terror hits first, followed closely by a curdling realization. Harry is worshipping Sleep. Fallen hook, line, and sinker for her promises. Pity blooms, but it rots just as quickly as her hatred rises, uncontrolled and spiraling. ]

What the hell is wrong with you!?

[tequila_sunset]

Concern flows from Harry immediately.

“Are you okay-?”

Then comes the anger, he flinches back. He verbally fumbles, sputtering. It’s his turn to be scared.

“I’m not- can we talk about this?”

[zauns]

[Hmm. Now that's interesting. And rather artistic, actually, even if Silco finds the whole thing a bit unsavory.]

One finds comfort where they must, I suppose. What is the benefit, then, to your worship?

[tequila_sunset]

A familiar presence! A pragmatic approach. The frankness soothes his nerves a little.

“What I get from Sleep is probably not what others need. I was born with my ears open to the cries of the world spirit. She’s familiar to me. She understands me.”

Everything is kind of just tumbling out of his mouth at once.

“Sleep is nourished by love. Like anyone is. She overwhelms and I don’t think the others here are equipped to understand her like I am.”

RHETORIC - (Hey, you haven’t actually answered him yet.)

“Sorry. Her power guided me out of the void a few days ago. Also I see tethers. That’s a gift from her. They’re beautiful.”

[hallowedly]

...you must have been suffering a great deal, mustn't've you?

COULD A TORMENTED PERSON MAKE *THIS*?

[tequila_sunset]

“…what? What's that supposed to mean?”

He’s getting increasingly uncomfortable.

“This isn’t like an artistic expression of my inner torment. It’s for Sleep. It's an altar.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA - (An altar is commonly a table or flat-topped block used as the focus for a religious ritual, especially for making sacrifices or offerings to a deity.)

“Ok it’s an altar *and* a shrine, it’s a combination.”

[licencetoheal]

My hopes, my past, my body [he holds up a hand currently curled into talons] my blood - and most importantly of all, my future - are my own.

[His voice is firm but gentle.]

I think in this conflict, regardless of what preternatural elements we decide to ally ourselves with, based on whatever is the best arrangement of convenience or survival, we still must keep sight of the truth:

Our ultimate loyalties shouldn't be to beings that have turned us into pawns in a strategy game, they should be to each other. Above all else.

If Sleep has the ability to relieve us of what's happening to us, pray tell, why hasn't she stopped the visions exploiting childhood trauma I'm not responsible for by choice? If she's apparently willing to act on the goodness of her heart? If it's so easy for her all it takes is sharing a memory?

You've confused protection with extortion.

[tequila_sunset]

Great. Harry really liked this guy too. It’s not like his social life has been blossoming since his fucked up face exploded.

“Okay, so it was an *invitation,* not a demand...I’m not used to this. I wanted it to sound grand because it’s obviously a fucking pile of junk!”

He sighs. A deeper exhaustion than from the physical toll of building the shrine has come over him. A profound weariness radiates from him across the murmur, to him it’s a familiar loneliness. Everyone wants him to be something he isn’t. A cop. A crazy junkie bum. A punching bag. A corpse. The savior who stops an atomic fucking bomb. At the end of the day she’s the only one who sees him.

“You know what that’s great. I used to believe in stuff like that too. Do you come from a place where faith in collectivism can alter physical reality?”

[Careful, Julian. That’s a trick question.]

“I don’t know anything about your dreams! I’m not here to be Sleep’s PR guy, I’m not saying what you think I’m saying! And what I shared with Sleep wasn’t extortion. You don’t get to talk about it like that!”

[vixenish]

Harry...

[ oh, she hates this. she does something she hasn't in a while—draws up a wall in the murmur, the shield she used to maintain between herself and all others. the fortress she hid behind to keep them out. she doesn't want him to know how she feels about this.

he is an Offering, after all. she, too, has felt Sleep's call, compelling and utterly beguiling, in a way her Token companions don't seem to; resisting it is exhausting work all on its own, never mind the voids.

still, to build an altar and invite the entire city to worship is... ]

You'll get pushback for this, you know. [ mildly; there's no real inflection to her voice, disapproving or otherwise. ] I just hope you're prepared for that.

[ she thinks to herself, quietly, that she wouldn't be surprised if his altar gets destroyed when he isn't there to protect it. ]

[tequila_sunset]

Harry braces himself for worse. It doesn’t come. Only the sinking feeling of disappointing someone else. His anger, defensiveness, it all fades fast. Replaced by a feeling of hollowness.

“Yeah. I…”

He doesn’t want her to worry about him. This hurts worse than the yelling.

“Yeah. I’m pissing a lot of people off right now…but something would’ve happened eventually. I’m just that kind of person, I think.”

PAIN THRESHOLD - (At least you aren’t waiting for it anymore. The waiting is the worst.)

HALF LIGHT - (Like tip-toeing on egg shells you can’t even see, only the certainty that Something is about to come crashing down on you and knock you back on your ass.)

[longwillows]

[This...




makes her feel a way she hasn't for a long, long time.

But those feelings are not for him. They're not for Her, either. Kalmiya holds them at a distance from this message, from the Murmur, from herself. She projects no likeness when she speaks; only her voice, measured with the careful patience of someone who has taken a thousand confessions.]

What happens when we worship?

[tequila_sunset]

“She can’t always answer immediately but she responds. I won’t lie, it can be scary. It's not like talking to a human. She’s bigger than us. When she speaks you feel it your whole person.

A pause.

“I spent a lot of my life talking to someone like her. That's part of why I feel like it’s my job to help her be understood.”

[heavensnight]

[on one hand, it frightens Maria. her last memory is being killed for the sake of a ritual. being a sacrifice. the altar is terrifying in that regard.

and then in another way...Maria can't help but understand it. thinks it's beautiful in its own right. the beauty in terror and so forth. not that she can understand that well. it was never that beautiful to her.]

You really went all out, huh?

[she knows people won't be happy about this but Maria doesn't want to be one of those people to make him feel bad.]

[tequila_sunset]

A wave of unbridled affection comes tumbling down the murmur. Harry can’t really restrain his emotions on this thing anymore. He’s happy to hear from her. (And relieved she isn’t mad at him.)

“Maria! Hi!”

He senses some of that fear. He wants to take it between his hands and soothe it away for her. (He wants to rest his head on her lap until the stress melts away.) (He wants to show her everything colorful and beautiful he’s gathered from the ruins of this broken world.)

“Yeah…I know it looks kind of freaky. What I had in mind was a lot cleaner but I don’t have a cement mixer, or cement, or really anything you need to build a real monument. I was kind of hoping to inspire others to help with the next one.”

[nestingdevil]

[There is something distinctly cold from his end. Not broiling like a coaxing fire, not curling like a finger of beckoning smoke, but more chilly. Blank. The feeling of it more similar to a viper, coiled tight and waiting out the heartbeats.]

You know, that's not gunna work. [Greed tosses a matchbox onto a makeshift dresser, letting it tumble and skip over itself.] What did she promise you, exactly? [Curt, is his tone. Not at Harry, not entirely, but at the whole fucking idea.] No, friend. Things like that - they don't tend to give anything away that easily. You'll end up spending a lot more than it's worth.

[The former homunculus pauses to check what's left of his cigarette pack before deciding against it.] So sorry, I'm not interested. It's a rotten deal. [It's hard to say what's coming from his end: bitterness, defiance. Sympathy. Greed slinks across the room and as the end of his tail licks the floor below, the tips of his claws make runs in his pocket; the coin trapped between his fingers, flipping over his knuckles at a drumming, rhythmic pace.]

[tequila_sunset]

A low animal whine escapes his throat.

Okay he’s certain he prefers being yelled at, being outright hated to this kind of disappointment. It makes him feel somewhere between a dog and a scolded child. And he really doesn’t have anything to say to stem that tide. He cradles his broken hand to his chest and slumps against the shrine.

EMPATHY - (He isn’t blinded by rage like Sharon, you can still try to explain yourself.)

SUGGESTION - (It’s a small hope, but it’s more of a chance than she gave you.)

“I know it sounds really bad but I’m not doing it for power or payment. Sleep saved me, and there’s no one here to save her.”

A pained breath. He knows he can’t make Greed understand, but maybe he can make him think a little less badly of him.

“I’ve made a connection with her. I don’t expect everyone to understand but she found me in a place no one else would’ve ever tried to pull me out of. And now that I can see how she’s hurting…I can’t leave her there. Everyone can think I’m crazy or stupid, I’ll just have to deal with that. I have to do this.”

[chosenkingoflucis]

[Ironically, as someone who is basically a tool for the Gods back home (even if he doesn't know it), the young king feels an immediate sense of rebellion upon being invited to worship. In Noctis' experience, everything to do with Sleep has been nothing but nightmares and trouble.

He's not going to judge another for whom they choose to worship though. He just wants to make sure it's truly their choice.

It's that nervousness, the uncertainty that gives Noctis the feeling that something isn't right. And he can't just ignore something like this.

However, he's never been good with words, so he's unsure how to even approach, this guy- figuratively. So he starts by just speaking in his head as Ignis taught him.]

Uh, hey. My name's Noctis...

[tequila_sunset]

REACTION SPEED - (Uh oh, you realize something.)

Harry puts his head in his hands.

I was trying to be impressive and didn’t introduce myself. Is that why everyone thinks I’m crazy?

SUGGESTION - (No, but I can’t imagine it helped. You didn’t come off as cool *or* personable. So you’re a secret third thing now: offputting.)

“I'm Harry. Hi, Noctis.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION - (Now, that’s a *cool* name.)