The Marked Ones discussion
Karnaca
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Rooftops
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He admired their effort at the very least, their intentions? Not so much. Most people approached with a specific desire in mind. To end someone they envied, to take from those more fortunate, to rain hell upon their enemies. He was never really up to entertaining their antics. But Mordecai was a bit different. Bored yes, but inquisitive too, precocious.
"Three men built this shrine during the course of an entire Fugue Feast week. They sacrificed the few days a year they have to be who they want to be in order to build a shrine in my name. They picked themselves off like crows to a buzzard, the paranoia coming in the night. Betrayal. Their bodies now fertilize the trees in Cyria Gardens. Pity how humans so easily disregard strong connections and bonds they've made at the chance of furthering themselves. Greed, what a funny concept." he stood at the edge of the building, settled against the wall, black eyes like oily oceans fixated on the man who'd visited his place of dwelling.
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The Abbey told stories, most of them were used to scare children into submission but were taken more seriously than they were supposed to be by adults. Stories of The Outsider creeping into bedrooms late at night, tempting people into sin. Stories of The Outsider bringing about mass destruction, leading the weak into doing horrible acts of violence.
"Your intentions have changed, haven't they Mordecai? Do you realize that? Or are you lost in yourself? What an ambiguous man, too afraid to know what he really wants, too lackadaisical to overcome those fears" he explained, tilting his head.
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"... They are.. average arms. Not frail nor bulbous like your fragile ego. It seems the years have driven you to desperation dearest Mordecai" he replied, quirking a brow up, not too bothered by the closeness.
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"No." he said simply, his presence waning just slightly.
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".... This is an odd subject of conversation." he pointed out, eyes flickering over him skeptically.
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"A new era. One with which will find itself at the feet of a different deity, however they so choose to make themselves known. If they are to make themselves known that is. The power will be in their hands, how they decide to utilize it, who they decide to visit, is near completely up to them. Excluding the demanding nature of the void of course" he explained it rather casually, taking a different tone than he had before.
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The Outsider was hesitant, tilting his head and thinking it over slowly before he could communicate what he meant. It wasn't an easy topic to talk about, it wasn't like he had much experience with dying. He'd seen people die in every possible way, some ways excruciating, others so blissfully peaceful he almost felt an envious resentment. But he had never died himself.
"... To claim that I have omniscience would be preposterous, a complete falsehood. To be honest, dear Mordecai... I haven't the slightest idea of what will happen to you, or to this world, without a harbinger of the void, without a representative to direct its power. The void houses a representative for thousands of years at a time and occasionally goes dormant for thousands more, unmanned, without a head to its body. I imagine you wont be affected directly. Your tether will remain, my gifts to you not taken where you stand. The mark may dissipate from your skin but you will never cease being a conduit for the void." he explained vaguely, frowning just slightly.
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message 31:
by
The Outsider (Whales or Whatever), Did nothing wrong
(last edited Apr 29, 2018 12:45PM)
(new)
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His skin was cold, not chilling but cooled as though just out of a storming blizzard. It tasted almost sweet, a slightly metallic taste behind the scent of wildflowers and a touch of altar wood. His eyelids lowered and he reached up, running his fingers through Mordecai's locks, "... You looked to me for validation, dearest Mordecai. Is that why you've suddenly begun to proposition me?" he asked.
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"... Admit it, you're going to miss being in the favor of a god without even trying. I wonder how it feels, to know your deity is going to completely disappear and leave you with nothing but a fading mark and a silent tether to the void" he cooed.
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"... I have been trapped for four thousand years Mordecai. I can't help but wonder what my last moments will be like, I yearn to not exist in this state anymore. My life was stolen away from me, I hardly recall the sensations of being a man, of breathing air through my lungs, overheating, being cold. These senses are numb and dormant. I would take nothing but a dull satisfaction in snuffing out the last dying embers of my humanity" he explained carefully.
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He felt each and every one, the memories of the warmth seared into his skin but he could not react and he could not feel them. He could only remember, as if experiencing them in a dream.
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"... I once had a name, not a place in society but I at least had a name. Who are you? Sloth or Mordecai? Do you even know anymore?" he asked.
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as for how they'll be a thing, idk, he'll be a lot different when he's not a nihilistic void entity >>
The Outsider stopped, staring down at him quizzically, "... Why?" he questioned simply, tilting his head to the side and raising his brows at the other.
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But his features stuck out like a sore thumb in broad daylight. Ancient and lost to the human genome, cheekbones pronounced and jaw line as sharp as the royal protector's folded blade. He was different and yet impossible to miss. Especially with the gentle, horizontal scar that slipped across his throat where the sacrificial knife had graced his flesh. He wore something simple but slick. A black button up over well fitted trousers, a pair of spectacles settled on the collar, his hair cut to fit the usual style that he'd grown familiar with.
He tried not to stray too far from his usual style, but it was hard to remain inconspicuous in this city, overseers would be looking for him. Which is why he spent his time in solitude, on rooftops, in alleys. But he was also here for a different reason..
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He slowly shook his head, "... I am exactly where I am needed." he replied, raising a brow at the other, obviously, he thought to himself, still taken aback. If this is what happened to Mordecai, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of state he'd left Lekivian and Sarang in...
Especially Sarang...
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"I've known men who've gone through months rotting in cells at Coldridge Prison, who've still stood and dusted their knees off as though it were nothing. I've seen children with more resolve than you! Are you going to lay there wallowing in your own self pity or are you going to get over yourself so we can converse as equals!?" he shouted angrily, panting and flexing the muscles in his palm, seeing as they'd stiffened up on impact.
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He shook his head, "You are no more human than I." he approached and slowly sunk to sit beside him, "... And you are capable of great things. What is it, that damaged your confidence? That shattered your self respect?" he questioned, gazing over him curiously.
Typically clean, rooftops are where most of the windmills are placed as to catch the natural drift in the air and generate energy. Many workmen sit along rooftops gambling and drinking.