#Higher Cathedral Rock

[thorsenmark]

Yosemite National Park Has a Beauty to Stir a Thirst for Adventure by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A setting looking to the northeast while taking in views across the Merced River and nearby grassy meadow and forest to ridges and peaks of Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.

[onetangosierra]

Cedar Wright @ Gravity Ceiling, Higher Cathedral, Yosemite.

[bluginkgo]

Ep 8 Thoughts and Details Part 1

Some thoughts and details I had while watching ep8, and some parallels I found. And yes, I had to split this into 2 parts because Tumblr said "fack you, you can only upload 30 images :P"

Spoilers, duh

Already starting strong, the song that plays through the radio is "Cyn's theme" if you will, that is heard all the way back in ep5 (time stamp about 2:34)

Ep8 showcasing the first teaser image that was released on Liam's channel. Quite bittersweet, in a good way.

Well, uh, Uzi is a true god now XD She's got the AS that was originally in Cyn as well, double powerful and double traumatized/damaged OC!

"A How-to guide of overcoming the existential dread evoked by murdering innocent sentient robots capable of emotion and independent thought. Real life JCJ engineer testimonies. Thought provoking analysis of life and the benefit of being the apex predator. Insanely philosophical advice such as, 'Get over it,' 'Shut up and keep working,' 'Do you want a job or not.'"

Bleh >:P The fact that the AS is still playful is something a bit silly to me, in a funny way. Despite it being the god of the universe- almost- it has a silly side to it.

The amount of times there were cuss words either almost said/implicated made me so happy and burst out laughing one too many times XD

I've seen some people mention how the reunion between Uzi and Nori was unsatisfactory. In my opinion? It was perfect. The awkward feeling of meeting someone you should have known your entire life, all the while trying to the world was perfectly translated here. The silliness that Uzi inherited from Nori shines here. But most of all, N's kindness shines through Uzi. I think if Uzi was still her angsty rebellious teen like she was back at the beginning of the series, she would have not had as nice of a reunion with Nori as she did now.

Omg, you have no idea how happy I was in this scene. The animation, VAs, the DETAIL- ALL OF IT was so amazing! N looks so silly and goober-y <:3 Another thing I took notice later on was the timing. It's not really stated how much time it took for Uzi to go from falling down the AS hole to being punted into space. But assuming about minutes, that implies N facking booked it. The moment he got tossed out of the cathedral with the keys, he absolutely booked it to the ship without evening thinking whether Uzi was alive or not. He needed to see the evidence for himself. He didn't give up on and assume that Uzi was gone.

Recently one of the animators posted the scenes they worked on, giving us a clearer view of expressions. The work done by Xoriak was amazing and really pushed the expressions on these characters to the limit. What used to be Uzi's anger, quickly melts into relief an sadness as she realizes that N didn't give up on her in this scene. While she sacrificed herself, N did not accept her possible death as the only answer. No, he chose to look for her, and he would have done the same with V had the elevator not been blocked off.

This made me happy too. N has grown so much from who he was in the pilot. He used to be the push over that made friends with rocks, that accepted any order from the higher ups and didn't dare question any rebuttals. Now? Now he's confident enough to even voice the fact that he was mad about what Uzi did.

Give me like- giv- give me a second- LKJD;OIADKNVKVNAKDJF;OIWAEJFANVKJASDJFAOIWEFNAKJSDBV For the longest time my hyperfixation has been BONKS. Evident enough with what I've drawn (looks back at the 4-5 bonk drawings I've made). The fact that I got to see them bonk in canon made my sad sorry soul ascend into the upper plane of existence XD Oh and "die man bit-"

I grew up watching Studio Ghibli, so to see this moment- of NUzi falling and holding hands, of course my brain said- YOYOYOYO LOOK LOOK THEY'RE SO CUTE-

The moment of respite, the hug, the tail wrap around and the quick release from Uzi's part after having a heart to heart- it was all so perfectly beautiful ;w; NOT TO MENTION THE MUSIC, as usual AJ DiSpirito absolutely delivered. I REQUIRE THAT MUSIC TO BE PLAYING LOUDLY IN MY EARS 24/7 PLEASE AND THANK YOU AJ.

"I owe you 1 spaceship" -N

Couple things:

It's funny how J just either gave the ship up without a fight, or N was so stupidly fast that J couldn't even do anything about him taking it XD

N is an absolute machine at speed drawing XD

"I'm FINE, and calm, and GO AWAY." J is the embodiment of the entire work force TwT Couldn't help but say "same, honey, same ;w;"

Excuse me while I just- ITS VVVVVVVVV SHE CAME BACK OH MY GOSH- passes out On a more serious note, I've seen plenty of people mention that if V came back, her sacrifice would be for nothing. I don't think so. V came such a long way and grew to be more kind and honest thanks to her interactions with N, Uzi, Lizzy, and even her "death." It shows, because she chose to side with Uzi and N, and they all fought together in an amazing dance.

There were many moments in the episode that were a bit "slower" pace as many have put. That these moments took away from the intensity that was supposed to be in the episode. I don't think so. These moments are needed not just for the comedy part of it, but to give our brains to rest. To take a second, process the fighting we just saw, and be ready for more action. This is often used in Studio Ghibli movies, where after heavy action, it is followed by moments of quiet serenity to give you time to let the events sink in.

This, this right here TwT CRIES. These three have been together, hanging out, figuring out the eldritch mysteries- of course they'd pick up habits from each other. From N becoming more confident with himself and allowing himself to be mad at someone. To Uzi picking up on V's crawling on the ceiling habit. To V picking up Uzi's "bite me."

The amount of hand holding that was in this episode gave me enough serotonin for a life time. And the way that N always ended up wrapping his tail around Uzi, be it a hug or a cool pose. All of my NUzi hyperfixations are becoming canon and making me go FERAL.

Something that is interesting and always comes back to us, is the AS's interest and fixation on N. The way I have always seen it was Cyn was the reason for it. The AS tends to take something from the host and amplify it ten fold. For Uzi's case the perfect example was when she felt anxious or upset. Ep4 and ep7 are great examples of that. For Cyn's case it would seem that she got attached to N after she entered the mansion as a Solver host. The AS probably took that thought and amplified it to unhealthy amounts.

Oh.MY.GOD. THESE GOOBERS SEND HELP THEY'RE TRYING TO KILL ME WITH HOW CUTE THEY ARE. N first attempts to protect Uzi, and she says "nuh uh" and covers his hand instead. This. This right here. It's far too beautiful TwT

Great frame, but uh, how the fack are we able to see the AS symbol? XD Cause uh like, her face has a split for the nose section still and all of a sudden it just... went away? XD Don't get me wrong, the animation is TOP NOTCH in these last episodes, but silly little moments like this- where it's super tense and scary, but after a rewatch it just seems silly.

When I first saw this I figured "oh shit, it's ep7 all over again, they're gonna be obliterated." The demonic screams I let out were a bit embarrassing to say the least XD

This little shit. She's just playing with them, and she knows it. This entire fight was nothing more than a little game for her. Like a cat playing with a mouse before killing it.

In this scene you can actually hear the first notes of Eternal Dream, but in a super distorted way, much like it sounded in ep6 (timestamp about 15:30)

Alright, Ginkgo what now, why include this blurry frame of nothing? I really admire Cyn's VA. Fitzy has always done an amazing job at making my favorite character- Cyn- the creepy silly goober that she is. So of course I would have watched and unwillingly memorized laugh takes that Fitzy also shared. One of which was here (time stamp of about 0:47. The laughs are similar, and most likely reused from ep7 takes that never made it into ep7 but carried over to ep8. Just a fun little detail I noticed.

OMFG LMAO AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHA THE WAY I BAWLED THE FIRST TIME I HEARD IT XD

Split second frame but I see it. I SEE IT V. SHE COVERED UP N'S CORE TwT Despite all of the comments she made, despite all of the things she did, she still cared for him. And the entire show, her entire character growth shows that. She didn't run in that moment- she could have much like she did from Cynessa mere seconds ago, but she stayed, and tried to protect N too.

OMG BAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHA YESSS UZI XD

The entire fighting scene between Uzi, Cynessa and J was so amazing. As usual, AJ DiSpirito did an AMAZING job with the songs, but more so the fact that Uzi is able to hold her own against J and Cynessa, that just amazes me. She has always been strong, but seeing it in battle made me appreciate it all that much more. Another thing about this episode, it seemed like the animators didn't particularly try to hide anything sneaky. All of the glitched sections (ex: Uzi's visor after she at the AS) were code that general population is unable to read/decipher- unless someone with an actual expertise tells me otherwise, I can only assume its code of her CPU functions- once again, remember, I know next to nothing about computers and that language TwT But the moments that were evident were these- they were even changed to BLUE. From the pilot time, everything was sneaky. I mean from the way the Murder Drones logo switched briefly into the AS symbol, to N's waking up having administration "CYN" written on his visor upon reboot. All of that was sneaky details put in for us to hunt down. This time around, it didn't feel much of like a hunt and more like silly easter eggs.

Wanna see the rest of it? Yeah, here's part 2 because Tumblr doesn't like more than 30 images per post TwT

[gumbootillustrations]

decided to fuck around n update garroth's ref sheet

other bits below the cut :3

the armour that garroth is introduced in is stolen from o'khasis. specifically, it's standard issue o'khasian guard's armour, and he passes it off as being a hand-me-down from his father (which isn't entirely untrue, and why he can say it with a relatively straight face). its old and its fucked but hey, beggars can't be choosers so garroth makes do. when they go to pikoro, he chucks a big fuckoff fluffy cloak over the top of it that i couldn't be assed drawing so use ur imagination if u wanna. tbh, this is probably the design i changed the most bc i lowkey hated my first iteration of his intro armour n it looked a bit too much like brian's so uh. yeah.

nothing much changed w his standard armour except that i shuffled around the layers a bit n whacked on a belt for his sword. plus a couple of variants (his 'juror' form n what he wears when the group goes to gal'ruk chasing down a certain carin valkrum, an ex-juror and the best lead they have on finding enki's relic). not much else to say here.

nothing much else changes w his out of armour outfit either except for some detailing on the waistcoat and i tidied up the collar of his shirt. yeah.

OKAY JUICY LORE DROP. so when garroth was around three or four, a plague swept through o'khasis and almost wiped out the city (nobody knows what brought it on, but the narrative pushed by the higher ups was that it was biological warfare perpetrated by either tu'la or scaleswind), and the ro'meave house wasn't left untouched by the plague - in fact, it almost killed garte, and both garroth and zane got really sick from it. during a particularly bad episode of fever, garroth went for a wander through the relatively abandoned halls of the lord's manor and wound up in a room full of antiques and heirlooms and a weird looking, glowing rock - which he promptly picked up and sort of absorbed. turns out that the rock was esmund's relic, and it just sorta. hangs out unnoticed by anyone (garroth puts the whole incident down to a fever dream) until zane sucks everyone into irene's cathedral (aka the irene dimension) and the relic possesses him, leading to zane's death at his hand.

but yeah, nothing much changed w this design either except for me updating it to reflect the design as expressed in my post re: the divine warriors of the second war of the magi.

as always, let me know if u have any questions/comments! <3

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

‘Who is your favourite female composer? Who do you consider the greatest female painter? The greatest female philosopher? The greatest female architect? The greatest female physicist? The greatest female film director? The greatest female poet? The greatest female playwright? What is the greatest all-female rock band? Who is the greatest female scientific genius? What musical forms were created by women?’

What reason would you attribute this alleged relative lack of genius in women to?

Well, the male and female brains evolved to be different: different parts of the brain light up on an FMRI scan when men and women carry out the same activities, with the most notable difference being that women's brains tend to use both sides of the brain at once to carry out a task, whereas men's tend to focus almost exclusively on either one or the other. The 'information cable' joining the two brains and enabling them to talk to each other, the corpus callosum, is thicker in females than males, which is thought to be why women are generally able to multitask better than men.

The flip side of this is that any abstract mental activity that requires a sustained and undivided attention to the exclusion of all else - such as simultaneously holding in mind each part of a 40-piece orchestra while composing three-hour-long symphonies to be played by them, living everyday in an invisible world of higher mathematics, visualizing every room, staircase, nook, cranny and hallway of a massive cathedral while drawing up its architectural plans, or thinking twenty moves ahead in a game of chess, with the singleminded aim in all of them of pushing that particular field of activity further than anyone has pushed it before - is something that men excel at. Not all men, obviously, or even anything like the majority, but still the few men of undeniable genius in all these fields greatly outnumber the number of women with anything approaching comparable ability.

As Camille Paglia famously said, "There is no female Mozart because there is no female Jack the Ripper": it's the same obsessional drive of the male brain in both. "Serial or sex murder, like fetishism, is a perversion of male intelligence. It is a criminal abstraction, masculine in its deranged egoism and orderliness. It is the asocial equivalent of philosophy, mathematics and music."

[roseofhybrids]

He he he hoo hoo hoo I can get the higher quality screencaps now, time to mess with the levels

The mineshaft We have some human skulls and rib cages (I count at least 3 of each), shovel, lantern, supply box, Indiana Jones hats, cloth roll. Your normal every day mine stuff. Oh, and the weird growths, of course. I thought this was like the red vines we saw in the manor, but these seem to be coming forward and off the rocks a lot more while the ones at the manor seemed to stick flat. They remind a lot of deer antlers.

Next we have the goobers in the cathedral Lottsa pillars, unlit candles, some sort of beam or bench knocked over in the back, a pile of furniture I can't quite make out (one in the front maybe a piano?), and a barrel. Your normal every day church stuff.

N getting dragged to hell hard to make out much in this. Looks to be more bones and goo. I recall someone saying the object N is grabbing looks like Uzi's hat. Hard to say for sure, but the size and texture does seem to match.

The outside of the cathedral Complete with a gravestone/pillar with a pickaxe and miner's helmet, chained up dingoes, and a giant lab space for rent sign. A few ends and nulls written on the skull and stone.

Nori's door, before and after (presumably) Tessa slams it shut. There's no other humans we know of around the place. And I believe that shape in the bottom left is her bow. Not much else to say about these ones. It's too dark to actually see anything inside the room. Though, I will say that the lighter edges we see along the frame when it's open seems a little strange. Like there might be something solid blocking the doorway.

More of the cathedral Another pillar (love those), some sort of entrance in the back, looks like a staircase to the right. Also, Uzi has yellow hand lights

N helping Uzi up Nothing to see after adjustment other than floor

ow Not much the adjustment tells us here either, just get a slightly better view of N getting his fingers broken

It is worth noting that her hand is back to purple here. But in the scene where her hands are yellow, she is not holding the crucifix.

So either the yellow was temporary / comes and goes. Or it turns yellow after the last shot and the scene we saw earlier in the trailer comes later in the actual episode.

I'd thought that maybe that shot of them turning came right after the hand crushing, but you can't see the staircase in that shot. That and the wooden ladder-like supports don't match up with the single one we see in the scene where her hand is yellow.

[themuseumwithoutwalls]

MWW Artwork of the Day (6/24/23) Umayyad Spain (Moorish, 8th-15th c.) Interior view: Great Mosque-Cathedral (8th c. CE) Córdoba, Spain

The building is most notable for its giant arches, with 856 columns of jasper, onyx, marble and granite. These were made from pieces of the Roman temple which had occupied the site previously, as well as other destroyed Roman buildings. The double arches, pictured above, were a new introduction to architecture, and helped support the tremendous weight of the higher ceilings. The double arches consist of a lower horseshoe arch and an upper semi-circular arch. The famous alternating black and white voussoirs of the arches were inspired by those in the Dome of the Rock. They resemble those of Aachen Cathedral, which were built almost at the same time.

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 1: Illumination

Previous Chapter: Prologue - Annunciation

Summary: You embark on a long journey and you face the ghosts of your past.

Word Count: 10k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Mentions of Death and Injury, Mention of Suicide, Established Relationship, Romance, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Difficult Family Relationships, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: As we start getting into the meat of the story, I would like to remind everyone to read the Prequels. Especially Purgatory as we will be stepping in right where Purgatory left off.

The categorization for this story is also no longer xReader, but xOC; however, I will still be writing from the same POV and I will still be vague about our Knight's physical characteristics and name. Please see either the Prologue for the note about her background to set the expectation for yourself before you begin to read the this chapter as we will be getting further details of her origins.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.” — Christopher Reeve

October 5th, 1987

Don't be afraid.

You waited restlessly in what could only be described as a receiving line as a black car pulled up and a figure in red emerged from the back.

Don't back down.

With every step he took, another person shook his hand, bowed to kiss his signet ring in respect, and you could feel your resolve begin to crumble.

Don't show weakness.

Finally, he made it to you.

There was no real greeting, no pleasantries. He could put on a show, but it wasn't hard to detect everything rotten beneath the surface.

The newly-appointed Cardinal Jinette had no fondness for you.

"It's good to see you being useful in a time of need," he greeted backhandedly.

Nor did you have any for him.

"I'm only meant to do as I'm told, isn't that right?" you countered trying to hold back the venom in your voice.

He held his hand out and you shook it, but avoided the show of respect. You didn't even look at his ring. He wasn't entitled to it. You gripped his hand tighter as he tried to move on from you.

"We need to talk."

The serene expression that he had schooled himself to give turned hard and impatient, and he reluctantly motioned for you to follow him as he continued down the line.

As he led a prayer for the congregants, you reflected and prepared yourself for the battle ahead.

It had been a few days since the earthquake rocked Los Angeles; countless buildings were damaged and destroyed. The death toll was low, but the number of people injured and missing got higher by the day. The church, of course, became a beacon of hope and refuge as it usually did. People flocked, people prayed and lit candles, they begged God for mercy.

So one would think that you, acting on behalf of the church—on behalf of God—would be put to use in the best of ways. To heal, and fix, for once, instead of strike and destroy.

You had been eager for it, craved it.

But for someone like you there was a line that couldn't be crossed. Rules that couldn't be broken. And when you had shown up at the cathedral amidst chaos after returning to the city from your hike, you had been told to stay out of the way. To let the people who could help in a meaningful way do so.

There would be no healing, no peace, no comfort for those afflicted by tragedy.

"An act of God," Jinette began, because there could be no other explanation. "An act of God requires no miracles; there is nothing to fix."

Miracles?

Was that what he thought they were?

Your nonna always told you that you were destined for miracles. It was in your blood. You'd follow in your father's footsteps and your grandfathers. Save the world from darkness through miracles.

Your father would laugh, though, as he packed his bag to leave on yet another mission for a God that damned him. You'd sit, too young to truly understand her hopeful devotion and his cynicism, and ask what Nonna meant. What miracles he was going to perform.

"Miracles are for Saints. Not for us."

You could have put up a fight. You should have. You should have pushed to make a difference and end someone's suffering but Jinette knew what buttons to press to get you to back down.

Especially since you carried the guilt that the earthquake was your fault in the first place.

Jinette sent you away to a place where he didn't need to look at you, where you could make the least amount of noise.

If only he knew the irony in his choice: the Misión San Gabriel Arcángel.

You swore you heard Gabriel's stiff, judgmental hum as you stepped through the gates. A warning that he could watch you here...watch you anywhere. A reminder that the clock was ticking and fate was waiting.

You helped with disaster relief efforts for days. Walked through the neighborhood passing out food and water, helped set up shelter in the rectory building, and prepared care packages.

Some of the historic buildings on the property had sustained damage in the quake; plaster gave way to show concerning cracks in the adobe below. So you volunteered to go into the chapel to survey the integrity of the building and see if it could be used to safely shelter people who had been displaced from their homes. If an aftershock occurred and the building collapsed, you could get yourself out when others could not.

You had done it before, after all.

However, the most important task you undertook was answering the rectory phone, and it was the reason your eyes burned a hole through the back of Jinette's skull.

He said his final amen, offered some additional handshakes, and then turned on his heel and started towards the cemetery on the grounds. You were quick to follow.

There was an uneasiness that filled you as you stepped past the cemetery gates and onto the grass, an unsettling energy. Not aimed towards you...but at Jinette...

You had always been receptive to the dead, but it had never manifested like this before.

It was a Mission, after all. What else did you expect?

"So," Jinette began and sat on one of the small stone benches. "What have you done now?"

"W-what have I done?" you choked on your words. You shouldn't have been surprised by his dismissal of you. "Why would you assume it's something I've done?"

"Because it's the truth of your soul, child. You sin again and again, you ask for penance, you're sent on another task to find it."

How dare he speak of penance. How dare he set foot on their graves. How dare he disturb their rest. How dare he talk about miracles and healing and peace and sin and forgiveness.

Thoughts bubbled up inside of you like heartburn and fed on your internalized wrath. Thoughts that were not your own.

You pushed them back and tried to focus on the task at hand. You wouldn't get anywhere if you weren't careful.

"I haven't done anything..." you explained. "Yet."

"Ah, you see?" He smirked and clapped his hands, triumphant that his assumption was correct.

"I need to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Father Arnold had me on the phones yesterday," you began your explanation. "People calling for supplies, to help arrange funerals...standard calls you might expect in this circumstance. But there was one call that...was interesting...concerning.

"Someone from the Geological Survey. Calling to let us know that someone would be out, to the mission specifically...to survey some kind of fault line that might have contributed to the damage. I'm not entirely sure; my father made sure I knew scriptures not science. What was interesting, though, was that he said this earthquake wasn't the only one that happened on Thursday.

"There was another one. Several, in fact, In Indiana. Hawkins. And that—”

Jinette's laughter cut you off and your stomach turned. You could hear the hissing at the back of your mind as the spirits grew restless once again.

"That's what this is about?" he asked incredulously. "Your...silly fascination with Hawkins?"

"It's not a fascination."

"Obsession. With that boy."

"It isn't about Eddie," you scoffed. "Hawkins was already the sight of an atrocity. The...the monsters...the portal...I told you all about it. What if this is related?"

"You didn't seem to think the last earthquake was an atrocity."

No, you hadn't thought so.

There hadn't been a reason for you to think otherwise.

Your thoughts were only on Eddie, not Hawkins. Who cared about the town when he was gone? When he waited for you? Your focus and determination was to undo the curse so you could be with him. More determined than your predecessors ever had been, surely, to reach the ultimate prize.

Love. Forgiveness. Salvation. Rest.

You toed the line between life and death countless times over the past 18 months, you never declined a mission. You became the mindless sword you were destined to be...and it still wasn't enough.

The weariness you had felt before Eddie's death had only increased tenfold. There seemed to be no end in sight.

Then the Earth below Hawkins shook and cracked and split open once again. For 7 days it had been rumbling with some frequency, unexplained.

But there were no such things as coincidences. For Gabriel to show his face here, after something happened in Hawkins again...

"I've changed my mind," you finally answered. "It must have been related. Something infernal. I have a gut feeling, I have to follow it."

"There's a proclivity to temptation in your blood. You know this."

How dare he speak of temptation. Ask about his temptation. Ask him what he did to earn the scarlet robe. He's hungry for power. Power over you.

"It isn't temptation," you argued. "It's a genuine concern. We should at least investigate."

"Have you tried calling? Any of your friends in Hawkins? Called anybody?"

"I have. The phone lines are down. Everywhere. Even the Pizza Parlor. Hawkins went dark...over a week ago it seems."

"Because of the earthquake. There is nothing nefarious there."

"But what if it is? If you're not going to let me go, ask someone else," you begged. "We can contact the Order. It wouldn't hurt to ask."

The two of you talked over one another to convince each other to see reason. You knew you needed to go, and Jinette was desperate for you to stay.

"You have no connection to Hawkins anymore," Jinette raised his voice and stomped his foot down in finality as he rose from the bench.

The anger bubbled up inside you once again and your throat tightened, the hissing of the spirits just as loud in your ear as Jinette’s.

Tell him. Tell him that a power greater than him demands your presence.

"Your little...boyfriend is dead. You have work to do elsewhere. You're better off doing work here, helping people here."

Tell him his rotten little existence is eclipsed by the majesty that awaits you.

“Instead of playing into your little fantasy where you can make up for being unable to save him.”

Tell him to go to Hell and then let us drag him there.

You let out a screech for them to shut up, all of them. Your voice echoed through the cemetery, bounced off headstones and monuments and columbariums.

Then the ground began to violently shake.

You began to shake.

You trembled with fury at a frequency that easily penetrated the earth and rippled out from you.

Jinette lost his balance and fell back on the bench as he stared at you in shock. Frantic shouts could be heard from beyond the walls that enclosed the graveyard. Cars beeped and crashed on the road as drivers lost control.

Across from the mission was the Civic Theater; it was another historic monument in devotion to your Guardian, with three bell towers situated proudly atop it. As the tremors increased, the bells started to sway. The distressed ringing emulated screams and cries for help as the adobe began to crack and give way around them.

“Please,” they seemed to beg in harmony. “We are innocent.”

But their cries fell on unsympathetic ears, and you watched with a dark, sick glee as one of the bell towers broke and crashed through the roof into the auditorium below.

You knew no one was hurt. You could feel it.

But Jinette did not.

"Stop this, stop! Enough" He shouted, pleaded. You recentered yourself and the tremors stopped.

“What have you done?” He asked in disgust. “What have you done?! You’re meant to save the innocent, protect them. You’re a monster!”

You quickly closed the distance between you and he flinched.

“If I’m a monster, it is because you made me one Father,” you hissed at him.

“Then may God find the mercy to save you,” he whispered.

"God isn’t going to save me. I’m going to save myself.”

October 7th, 1987

It was unfair to say that you didn't have any supporters within the church; there were a few people who could even be considered as having a fondness for you. A handful of nuns, the old priest at the parish back home, maybe maybe the Pope if you were really pushing it; he remembered your name once.

The other members of the Holy Order itself...well that was complicated.

However, as soon as you effectively burned bridges with Jinette, the number dwindled even further. And it was evident as you set foot on the grounds of the cathedral to collect your things.

You had only grabbed the bare minimum to go to the Mission on Jinette's orders and the rest had been stored away in some spare room in the rectory. But no matter who you asked, you never got a straight answer.

"The Cardinal had us put your things in storage."

"Your bags? We were told they were to be donated."

"Are you sure you didn't bring them along with you? Maybe a prayer to St. Anthony if you've misplaced them."

One of the nuns who usually had a sweet smile and prayer for you even made the sign of the cross as you went to ask for her help.

You stared at her in shock as she scurried away from you as quickly as she could. You covered your face and groaned.

You shouldn't have done what you did, you knew it...it was just...enough was enough. And you couldn't undo it now. You just...you knew you needed to get to Hawkins, desperately, and if Jinette wasn't going to loosen your leash enough to let you go, after you destroyed yourself for the church—for him—you knew you needed to break free.

But you also needed more than a dirty change of clothes and the handful of bills you had tucked into the glovebox of your car.

"UGH! For fuck's sak--"

"Sorry, did you need help?" a soft voice interrupted you, and as you peeled your hands away to see who the newcomer was, you found yourself vaguely remembering the woman. "Oh, it's you."

She looked different from the last time—the only time—you saw her. She had a coif and veil covering her hair now, and a maroon apron over her blouse and skirt. Not a nun yet, still a novice.

"Mary...Victoria, right?" you recalled. She smiled and nodded, then glanced to the sides.

"I, uh, don't think you're really welcome here anymore," she whispered conspiratorially. "The Cardinal is...really mad; he might have...banned you from the Cathedral."

"Tell me something I don't know." You rolled your eyes. "I just need to get my stuff. I'm making a run for it."

"Oh?" Her eyes brightened. "Where are you going? Official Knight's Business?"

"Less official and more..." You took a breath and tried to find the right words.

She had already been kinder to you than anyone else you'd come across, and could potentially get herself into trouble just for talking to you. It was strange, though, how clearly you remembered the mischief in her when you met.

"...more the exact reason I'm banned from the cathedral in the first place."

Mary Victoria laughed wickedly and nodded.

"Quick getaway, got it. I've been kinda looking for one of those myself."

She was?

She motioned for you to follow her and she led you through the maze of hallways in the rectory to a room that only a select few would see: the sacristy.

It was the room where the priests would prepare for mass, and especially now that Jinette was a Cardinal, it held a larger array of vestments and vessels. Atop a cabinet in the middle of the room was a white cassock and stole...and your duffel bag, the contents of which had been spread out along the cabinet, obviously rifled through.

Mary Victoria quickly tried to make some sort of excuse, that the Cardinal was just taking a tally of your things, maybe to return everything to you...but you both knew she was just doing it to spare your feelings.

Jinette was never intending to return your things.

You wondered, as you scoffed and shoved your clothes and books back into the bag, how many times this had been done before. By how many "well-meaning" priests and bishops and cardinals. They never took anything—they might have been assholes but they never broke a commandment...besides you would have noticed—but it still made you feel...less than.

Could you be surprised though? Over the years it had been made obvious to you that you weren't...a real person in the church's eyes. Especially to those like Jinette. Thus, the things that belonged to you...weren't really yours either. You were not allowed nice things, not allowed a life.

You hoisted your bag over your shoulder and the two of you made a quick getaway out of the rectory.

Mary Victoria hesitantly asked questions as you walked to fill the silence—where you were going, what you were planning to do when you got there—and you wanted to answer her as truthfully as possible, but you didn't really know what would be waiting for you in Hawkins.

"I'm sorry." She sighed and shook her head when you took a little longer to answer. "I know you can't say much."

"No it's not that," you tried to explain, but she continued.

"The first time I heard about the Order, I just thought it sounded so interesting. Fighting against evil, like something in a movie. But then we weren't allowed to ask any questions. We were told to avoid you unless you needed assistance. That's it. Not who you were or what you did or how to become one."

That was another surprise.

"You want to...be a Knight of the Holy Order?"

"I mean I gue—"

"Sister!" a stern voice echoed from behind you and the two of you stopped in your tracks. Mary Victoria suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Mother Superior!" Mary Victoria greeted the older woman in shock. "I was just showing my friend here the way to the exit."

You recognized her. For most of your acquaintance, she had been Sister Kathleen; she was a severe woman and incredibly devout. She'd come to Los Angeles from Chicago, which is where you met her, once upon a time. She had known you for longer than she would probably ever admit, and disliked you for just as long.

She had been your kindergarten teacher.

What had taken her from teaching children to running an abbey...well that was between Kathleen and God, but somewhere deep down, you liked to think it was because of you. She was not the kindest woman, and you weren't like all of the other children under her care.

You were young and not in control of your abilities yet, but you suppose that was just your Mother's excuse for the number of fires that had been started...one for each of the lies that Kathleen had told.

Because of this Kathleen, much like Jinette, had never been your biggest fan, and it was made obvious as she pushed between you and Mary Victoria, as if to form a barrier. She narrowed her eyes at you in distrust, but you just smiled innocently.

You were leaving; what more could she want?

"I think she can find her own way out," Kathleen concluded sharply. "Mass is starting shortly; we shouldn't be late."

"Oh but, we were discussing the Holy Order," Mary Victoria explained. "About her next mission."

"How many times have you been told to leave the Knights alone, Sister," Kathleen hissed at her, then her eyes slid to you. "Especially this one. Now, we must go."

Mary Victoria nodded solemnly, and followed after Kathleen without another word.

It didn't take much effort for you to reach out and feel the despair within her. You didn't know much about Mary Victoria—you didn't know anything—but it felt as though she was a candle that was slowly being snuffed out. Fighting, desperate for life, for light...unable to do anything but suffocate.

How many times had you felt that way over the years?

You made your way out of the cathedral, threw your things in the backseat, and got situated, ready to begin your journey. But the entire time, as you started your car and you dug through your glovebox to find a tape, your thoughts were occupied by Mary Victoria.

She wasn't a friend, she was a stranger. Someone who you met twice, briefly, in this long, unending nightmare that was your life.

She was also someone who helped you, twice, even if she didn't have to.

But that was a part of her vow, part of her becoming a nun...wasn't it? Helping people in need. She chose to be in this situation, chose to do good.

By that same logic, wasn't that part of your deal as well? Part of your vow, part of your curse?

You could have chosen to live the life you wanted. To indulge in freedom and happiness like every other person on the planet and to choose free will. Plenty of your predecessors had done it. But you chose to keep playing this game. Chose to keep fighting evil and helping people, even if the way you helped them...really only did more harm than good sometimes.

You didn't owe her anything.

But what did people owe one another, other than kindness and consideration and respect.

She was being snuffed out, and if you didn't help her...who else would?

"Fuck it!" You yanked your key out of the ignition, jumped out of the car, and then ran back into the cathedral.

You dipped your hand into the holy water and did a vague sign of the cross as you walked into the chapel and beelined straight for the group of nuns at the front. Mary Victoria was sitting beside Mother Kathleen in the middle of the group. You knelt at the end of their pew and whispered to her.

"Psst, Mare? Hey Mare!" She went wide-eyed at the sight of you; all of the nuns did, actually, and Mother Kathleen's face puffed with anger.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded but you ignored her. You were on a mission.

A side quest, Eddie would have called it. Save a damsel in distress before going on your mission. Like Taran saved Eilonwy on his quest to find Hen Wen.

"Do you wanna be a Knight?" You kept your focus on Mary Victoria.

"This is blasphemous!"

"What are you doing?" Mary Victoria hissed fearfully in question. The other nuns and novitiates also cowered at the anger of their leader.

"You said it yourself, everyone's supposed to steer clear of the Knights unless they need help," you explained. "So I'm here asking for help. I think you might be the best fit. You already saved my ass twice."

"Foul language in the church—"

"Seriously?"

"—banned from this cathedral already—"

"I think we need to hit the road before the opening hymn starts, so if you could make a decision quickly so I'm not actually crucified, that would be great?" You held your hands together in a plea and Mary Victoria sighed.

It was the longest two seconds of your life as she got to her feet and pulled the veil off her head. She shoved it in Mother Kathleen's hand then pressed a kiss to her cheek with a quick "forgive me" and then shimmied her way past the other nuns to get to you.

"You're really twisting my arm here.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically and then motioned for you to go.

The two of you made it out of the doors of the Cathedral just as the bell tower began to ring at the top of the hour and the organist hit the first chord for the entrance procession.

When you had first moved into your little apartment in Hawkins, oh so long ago it seemed, a conflict rose inside of you.

It had been empty; barebones made of walls and cabinets and avocado-colored appliances...but not much else. You were expected to fill the barren space and turn it into a home. It was such a daunting task; so much of who you were had been left behind. How could you create comfort when you had nothing to work with? Nothing to go off of?

But you had been on the road for so long, free to do whatever and go wherever you please, that it quickly became a cage. The simple act of defining who you were was something you actively fought. You hid every part of you away from everyone, because surely if no one knew who you were...you didn't need to know either.

Eddie had ultimately been the person who helped you find yourself. He saw the part of you that even you struggled to see. He helped you find comfort in a cage because it was the blank slate you were looking for. You just didn't realize it yet.

Now here you were, back in a cage that was both vast and barren, yet never big enough to provide the freedom it belied.

But it wasn't a cage for you; it was for Eddie.

A cage that he created for himself, whether he realized it or not.

One with bars that he, at first, threw himself against and rattled restlessly as he called for a warden that would never come. As he begged for the parts of himself that he left behind, that he willingly gave away. He could get them back, all he needed was a way out.

You would reach through the bars and whisper sweet words of comfort, promising that you would find the key. You gave him all that you could of himself, reminded him of what it was he left. It was everything you could spare but it wasn't enough to sate him.

Little by little hands began to pull him back, pull him away.

Claw him away.

"Please don't go," you begged. "I'll help you, just stay."

"I'm hungry," he moaned. "So hungry."

More hands flocked to him, ready to provide the sustenance that you barely could. They filtered it back into him, to repay the debt they owed. Because this was not a cage to them, this was their playground.

If you couldn't help make it a home for him, they surely would.

You tried to pry them away but they laughed at you, mocked you; they were stronger than you were, their will to keep him for themselves stronger than yours to save him.

Because as Eddie got weaker, so did you.

To provide for him, you starved yourself.

And one day, it would kill you.

Your world tilted and you woke up as a horn blared in your ears and the car swerved on the highway.

"Fuck you, fucking asshole!" Mary Victoria shouted. "Learn how to drive."

One thing you quickly learned about Mary Victoria was that she was a terrible driver.

The car swerved again and you grabbed the dashboard before you were flung out through the windshield.

Well, maybe not terrible, just...a little reckless.

"Mare? What's going on?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." She gripped the steering wheel tighter and bared her teeth. "It really wasn't my fault; this guy decided to merge last second without putting his signal on. Almost took us out. Fucker."

She also swore like a sailor.

Which was not...mutually exclusive with becoming a nun...but as soon as the two of you warmed up to each other, you learned that the careful and meek personality that she schooled herself into when in a house of God was not the real Mary Victoria underneath.

It honestly sparked your curiosity.

She had, quite literally, nothing but the clothes on her back when she jumped into your car and you left Los Angeles 18 hours ago. You had offered to stop at the abbey to pick up any of her things, and she hesitated.

"I mean...I don't have anything...worth stopping for," she explained vaguely. "Maybe underwear...uh...some extra habits. I didn't have a whole lot when I joined the Sisters, so I don't have a whole lot now."

So you stopped at the first Kmart you passed to pick up some supplies for her.

"It's on me," you insisted when she tried to explain she didn't have cash either. "Since you helped me get my stuff back and you’re potentially going headfirst into danger with me."

She talked a mile a minute as she scanned through the racks of clothes.

Would she need warm weather? Cold weather? These boots looked like they might be good for running in; would you be doing any running?

"Just dress comfortably," you explained, motioning down to your own clothes. A black t-shirt, ripped jeans that had seen better days, scuffed boots, and a canvas jacket that actually belonged to Mickey Caldwell once upon a time. He left it at Eddie's trailer when he went off to college so Eddie insisted it was fair game.

He had ripped off the patches that featured some of Mickey's favorite questionable bands and had found a few that suited your tastes more. You spent an afternoon helping him with his English homework as he stitched them on for you.

"We could be helping with disaster relief, or we could be...jumping out of the way of a creature that's trying to rip our throats out. It's a tossup."

Her eyes got wide but she understood. Her selection was pretty plain, consisting of the essentials. The most exciting article of clothing she insisted on, though, was a brown, imitation suede jacket that hung on her more like a cloak.

"It looks like one I used to have, if that's ok?" she twirled back and forth a bit.

You wouldn’t have said no even if she didn’t explain; her smile was infectious.

Then, at your first stop for gas, she insisted on taking shifts driving so you wouldn’t have to stop for the night...as long as you could grab her a pack of cigarettes.

"Or two, actually. They made me quit cold turkey, and it was brutal," she explained. "But I haven't driven in...a good few years so that would really help me survive this trip."

You got her three packs of Virginia Slims, one of which she chainsmoked during her first 8-hour shift, cigarette perpetually hanging from her lips as she cruised and swerved along I-15.

There was a lot of honking and a lot of singing along with the radio—she even made a joke about stopping in Vegas—but eventually it started getting dark and you both needed to rest.

You insisted that she take the first rest, mostly so you could have some time to think.

"As long as you're fine driving at night," she asked while she got settled.

Of course, you were. You'd spent plenty of nights wandering abandoned roads and ignoring the things that lurked outside of the vehicle, right at the corners of your vision.

You woke her up at an oasis at the crack of dawn to gently wake her up and grab breakfast, before you took your own rest that came to an abrupt stop by—

"GET OVER. STOP STRADDLING THE LANE PAL!"

Mary Victoria laid her hand on the horn again until the box truck in front of you picked a lane. Her hand shot in front of your face to flip the bird at the driver as she accelerated past him.

—By that.

"Good morning to me," you muttered.

"Sorry," she repeated sheepishly.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere in Iowa." She pointed to the road map that was draped on the dashboard and tapped at a certain mile marker. "We just passed this rest stop...looks like there might be a truck stop coming up...or I can try to turn around if you really need to pee."

What you really needed was to be in the driver's seat.

"I don't mind waiting," you insisted and shifted in the seat now that you weren't in danger from being thrown from the car. "Some nice driving you're doing Mare."

"Listen," she said with a warning tone. "I said I was sorry."

"No, it's funny. The swearing, the honking, the smoking. Not entirely convinced you weren't joking about Vegas either."

"I'll have you know that Sister Prudence talks about the river boat casino that was a half hour from her last convent like it's Disneyland. Nuns just wanna have fun too."

"You're devoted to piety, to God."

"Ah, ah, ah," she tutted and shook a finger at you. "Not devoted to God yet."

"See? There's some hesitation in there," you pointed right back at her. She slapped your hand away. "You're looking for a loophole. How did you decide you wanted to be a nun anyway?”

Her smile was a strange one, nostalgic almost...or as though there was an inside joke between her and...God...the Devil...you would never know.

"That's a long story," she insisted.

"We have nothing but time," you countered.

She leaned back and threw an arm over the back of the bench seat to grab the bag full of treat wrappers and supplies for her cigarettes. She lit one up and then started her tale.

“Yeah it’s…I mean." She immediately paused. "Ok so...yeah I guess I can admit I'm kind of on the fence about it. But can you blame me? It's a huge commitment, and I've already been doing it for years. But every step I get closer to the finish line...I dunno...something just doesn't seem right.

"I've done a lot of healing though, they've helped me out so much. So how can I change my mind now? I used to be...such a miserable person. You know when you just...get into trouble—well I guess you wouldn't know...which hey that how did you become a Knight anyway? Remind me to ask you that again later—but you get into enough trouble and people tell you that the only thing left to do is pray? Well I did.

"Los Angeles...Hollywood...I was gonna be a star, and I ran away from home and my mother told me...well she told me that I was..."

Mary Victoria clamped her mouth shut for a second. A split second. But you saw her lip quiver. She immediately sucked on the cigarette, a deep and hungry inhale, like she needed the hot tobacco to burn through the painful thoughts.

"Well anyway...it's actually not easy to become a star, especially when you come from nothing and you end up...racking up a lot of debt. And then I had this awful boyfriend who got me into more debt and he wasn't even that good in bed but he said he had connections, you know? He did have connections. Said he was gonna help me and I believed him.

"The next thing I know, I'm single, I've been evicted, I have nothing but the clothes on my back and maybe $20 in my pocket. I'm sobbing...like mascara running down the face sobbing. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard and it's literally about to rain. So I pray."

She rolled her window down and flicked the butt out. She then put her hands together in prayer.

"Please God, I just need a sign, I need a chance so I don't just step into traffic right now. I made a mistake, please can you help me. AND BOOM!" She clapped her hands together. "There's this light. I open my eyes and the El Capitan Marquee is right in front of me and wouldn't you know, standing in line are this group of nuns getting tickets to Splash. Fucking. Splash."

It could have been the ridiculous situation the two of you had found yourselves in or a general lack of sleep or just the bond that two people made while driving in a car together, but you both broke out in hysterical laughter. Because the image was just too much to really wrap your mind around.

By the time you overcame the levity, you were approaching the truck stop, and as you perused new snacks, used the restrooms, and filled your tank, she finished the rest of her story.

Sister Bernadette got her a ticket for the movie and dinner that night, offered her a place to stay, and then by morning was asking if she ever considered devoting herself to God.

"And the rest was history," she explained. "Listen, I couldn't have said no. I asked God for help and He gave it to me."

"Did He?" you asked.

"Didn't He?" she parroted.

"You literally jumped when I offered for you to come with me." You shrugged. "I don't think that's...I don't know, devotion."

"What are you devoted to then?" she questioned and something shifted inside you at her words.

You stopped in your tracks as you walked back to your car from inside the convenience store, but Mary Victoria kept talking, hands waving to emphasize your point as you stewed in your own self doubt.

"Why are you in the Holy Order if not to serve God? If not to devote yourself to a righteous cause and to stand for the good of the world against the approaching darkness?"

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, recollection of a thousand terrible things that you had done in the name of Goodness. And yes some of them were for the greater good, but...the rest?

What had it all been for?

She suddenly realized you weren't beside her and she turned back to you and balked when she saw what must have been a miserable expression.

"Is that what they say about the Holy Order?" you asked tensely.

"Uh..." She swallowed. "I mean...yeah. They don't say a lot. But...I mean...you're heroes."

You quickly approached her and grabbed the keys from her hand so you could drive.

"No," you said darkly. "We're not."

October 9th, 1987

The last leg of your trip started off tense. You barely said a word. Mary Victoria tried to make a joke now and again but it didn't get much of a reaction from you.

Soon you approached Chicago and the radio stations became familiar, sounds and shock jocks that you'd heard for most of your life. You didn't even second guess yourself before you rocketed your car off the highway and through familiar streets.

Mary Victoria had never been to Chicago before, so before you made your final pitstop, you took her to Gene and Judes. Maybe a chance to have a last little something nice before you potentially walked into the jaws of Hell itself.

"So...no Ketchup?" she cracked as she peeled the paper away from her hot dog. "And why is the relish...like...that color?"

"You're kidding right?" you asked with your own mouth full.

"Yes I'm kidding," she rolled her eyes. "Listen...I didn't...I didn't get to say thank you. I know...I-I gave you some shit...and I've been apologizing pretty much since we left LA, but I never said thank you. For helping me out."

"You've helped me out. You're still helping me out," you reminded her.

"Still, please...let me...." she fumbled with her words, but you stopped her.

"You can thank me if I get you back to LA alive," you insisted.

The two of you finished your dinner and then you headed for your home base. A tiny bungalow house with a half-dead lawn and a line of religious statues in the window of the front room—Saint Anthony, Saint Michael, Saint Gabriel, Our Lady of Mount Carmel—to let any curious passersby know that the house was blessed and protected.

You pulled up to an open spot at the curb and told Mary Victoria to wait in the car, you wouldn't be very long.

And you weren't.

The house was still half in disarray from when you moved in after your Nonna passed last Fall. Your mother insisted on selling the old house, but gave you a share of the money and left you with boxes filled with secrets and walls that contained ghosts while she went to enjoy what was left of her own life.

"25 years since I met your father," she said as you begged her not to go. "I just can't do this anymore."

You didn't need much. Everything you were looking for was in your bedroom and the kitchen. You hesitated as you were about to leave and grabbed a small amulet that was hanging by the door: a red horn capped with a golden crown.

You could use all the luck you could get.

And that luck immediately evaded you because when you got back outside, Mary Victoria was at the back of your car with the trunk popped open, and she stared at the contents in confusion.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You asked as you jogged down your porch steps to get to her.

You tried to push the trunk closed but she held both hands against it and begged.

"What the fuck is all of this?"

You glanced into the trunk and assessed your possessions. Things you tried to ignore most of the time, but had come to help you out in a pinch.

Jars and boxes and books. A larger tome that was a family bible-turned-diary that belonged to a great-great-grandfather. You vaguely remembered your own grandfather reading to you from it as a young child, but you had read it yourself countless times in the past year.

Two large iron crucifixes, all engraved with hyacinths, were tucked in a bag at the back. A set of knives that matched. A revolver with silver bullets that you honestly debated throwing into a river when you opened the trunk for the first time after you had run away from home. Your destiny followed you whether you liked it or not.

It was your grandfather's car, and all of his tools of the trade. And while you didn't have much memory of him, the contents spoke volumes about who he had been and why he met his demise.

"Supplies," you explained.

"I thought you were running in for supplies."

"Different supplies."

"I don't think jars of peppers are supplies," she countered. She reached into the trunk and opened the drawstring of a burlap sack. "I don't think a bag of bones is a supply."

"Keep your voice down," you hissed and forced her hands away and shoved the trunk closed. "The neighbors are nosy. Why are you snooping anyway?"

You got into the driver's seat and immediately hung the amulet around your rearview mirror alongside the existing black cord and tassel and a guitar pick on a ball chain that already hung there. Mary Victoria was quick to slide into the passenger's side and pin you with an inquisitive stare.

"Another pepper? Is that the supply you went in to get?" she asked.

"No but it doesn't hurt to have," you replied.

"It's a pepper," she deadpanned.

"It's a cornicello, it's for luck," you explained and started the car. "It's...an Italian superstition thing."

"You're supposed to be a Holy Knight, not...superstitious. What's this then?" she flicked at the cord that now tangled with the amulet. "Is it a...uh...ARGH! See I can't even think of one because it's not the same."

"They're one in the same," you insisted. "Ok, rule number one about being a Knight of the Holy Order? It's true. It's all true. Everything you know. Everything you don't. Things you couldn't even fathom? They're true."

"So God is real."

"Sure."

"What does that mean?"

"What is God?" you countered. "There could be one, there could be many. There is a Heaven and a Hell. Or you might find Nirvana. Or you could be sent to Jahannam. Or you're reincarnated. Magic and superstition and miracles and damnation. All of it exists. Or nothing does and we exist in chaos and that is explanation enough for all of the shit we see.

"That's the truth you have to face when you become a Knight, and it sucks."

"I..." She sunk into her seat, slightly shocked. Dejected? You couldn't tell. "Ok."

You had a good hour of silence as you got on the Tri-State and crossed into Indiana. But you couldn't even enjoy it because guilt roiled inside of you.

Shit.

Because she was a nun and she was devoted, even if the devotion was on shaky ground, and it was a hard pill to swallow. It had been a hard pill for you to swallow—well, your whole life was the biggest horse pill that had ever been manufactured—when your father had told you at 9 years old that everything you had been told was a lie and that you wouldn't have a First Communion with the other kids because...

You needed something to fill the silence.

You reached across the car to open the glovebox and you pulled a cassette out. An old mixtape with a label that had faded over time; it was skipping in some places but still brought you some comfort.

You shoved it into the cassette player and Ozzy's echoing voice softly filled the car as Bark at the Moon started.

"You don't have a Black Sabbath patch on your jacket," Mary Victoria said softly after a few beats.

"You like metal?" You looked over with a quirked brow.

"Eh that deadbeat ex boyfriend was all about it," she shrugged. "Had wannabe rock stars in and out of our apartment all the time. What about you?"

"I like it but my boyfriend was probably more like the wannabe rock stars than your boyfriend," you explained fondly, thinking of his stupid grin the first time he successfully swung his guitar over his shoulder at the end of a gig at the Hideout.

"You have a boyfriend?" Mary Victoria scoffed.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"No I just...I don't know. I guess I have questions."

"Ok."

"What, like you're gonna tell me everything?"

"Sure," you agreed. She had told you about her life...you probably owed her some answers. You owed yourself some too, if you were honest. "Ask away."

"Is he a Knight too?" she immediately jumped at the opening. "Your boyfriend?"

"No, he's..." You bit your lip for a second. "No he didn't know I was involved with any of this. And...now he's dead so...guess it's too late."

"Oh Christ," she gasped. "I'm...I'm so sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No it's ok. I'm...it's ok." You waved her on to the next question.

"How did you become a Knight then?"

"I was born into it."

"What do you mean?"

"My father was one, and his father, and his father."

"But it's..." she hesitated. "You guys have like...you're anointed aren't you? Did they...baptize you with holy oil or—"

"My specific case is...unique, I guess you could say," you began and braced yourself to open this can of worms.

"The other knights...yes...they are anointed. They've done good deeds, so they're offered the chance to do more; God chose them to purge the darkness from the Earth. There's no rhyme or reason; you're chosen and you must go. It's almost impossible to say no. They never do. Knights are the best of the best, the purest of soul. It's fate.

"But...then there's me. There's my family. Who, if you ask anyone who is aware of the curse—"

"Curse?!" Mary Victoria exclaimed. "Ok that's not what I expected."

"Curses are real." You shrug. "Unfortunately. And they're often associated with evil right? An evil witch curses a young princess and all of that. But this...this is different. We are the evil. And the good put a curse on us. To punish us."

"And I was not expecting that either." She whistled low. "How are you evil?"

"Can I finish one thought before we move onto the next one Mare, jeez!"

"Sorry."

"Alright," you took a deep breath. "Let's rewind back to the Crusades."

"The Crusades?!"

"Mary Victoria!" You shouted and she shrank back in her seat.

"Sorry," she repeated. "I'll shut up now. But I reserve the right for follow up questions after the fact."

"Fine. So the Crusades. The quest to conquer the Holy Land, the quest for the Holy Grail, all of that. Well, it all stems back to someone wanting power over someone else. That's what happens, that's what always happens. At that time, there were no Knights of the Holy Order, there were very few who understood the way things worked; one belief rivaled another and it was man versus man instead of good versus evil. For a hundred years...more, even. Blah blah.

"And then along comes...something...a gift. Bestowed upon a select few. The power of Heaven itself. Think of...ok this is much later but think of Joan of Arc. She performed miracles, she healed people, she...she saw visions of angels and fought in battles to protect her people. Well...that...so my great, great, whatever...grandfather...was born with a power beyond understanding.

"He was called to fight in a Crusade...his power was too good of a weapon not to use. And he wasn't the only one, there were people like this on all sides...but he was the only one who refused to go. Thou shalt not kill, it is a law of God Himself. But who speaks for God? The King. The Pope. He was just one man...but he stood for what was good and they damned him.

"His blood would have to pay. Every death that he could have prevented now rested upon his shoulders, and the shoulders of his son, and his son, and none shall ever enter heaven until the debt was paid."

"Fuck," Mary Victoria coughed.

"Yeah," you laughed. "Fuck indeed. I think there's an old ass scroll in the trunk that says all of that in Latin if you want proof."

"I'm good."

"So for years, it becomes...I don't know...this legacy. Every father has a son, and they're mercenaries for whatever man is in Power, essentially. In France, in England, in Italy...and then you have, actually, Vlad the Impaler who makes a deal with the Devil to op—"

"NO! Shut up...Vlad...like Dracula?!" Mary Victoria grabbed your arm. "Don't tell me Dracula's real. That vampires are real."

"Vampires are real...Dracula is not," you explained with a laugh. "Whatever, ok Vlad the Impaler makes a deal with the Devil, or so it would seem, to open up a doorway into hell and release darkness. Well it’s all myth...the door was already open. It always has been. He just took advantage of it."

"Sure." Mary Victoria held her hands out in disbelief. "That's the most...normal thing. How does that lead to you?"

"Leads to the Knights," you corrected her. "Because Europe—I mean...the world, really—is now extra overrun with monsters and infernal creatures and bad things. And the Pope sends his chosen few, these people with the power of Heaven, to stop them.

"Now, we don't actually hate this pope," you explain. "He's...he did a good thing. He created the Holy Order. He gave these people with gifts a purpose, to do good. He called my ancestor to Rome, told him to bring his whole family—his wife and son—gave him a home and helped them set up roots. Then he says that this is the chance for penance. No more mercenary work; think bigger. Fight the darkness. Take the oath. Gratia. Charitas. Solamen. Grace, Charity, Peace.

"And what does my ancestor do? He let the wrath take over," you struck your hands against the steering wheel to emphasize your words. "And he killed the pope. Fucking asshole."

"Are you kidding me?" Mary Victoria screeched. "HE...WHAT?!"

"But his son, ok?" You held your hands up to her. "Stepped up to the plate. Killed his own father, of course, and volunteered the family to the Order. He made a vow, which...we know magic and whatever is real...that every member of the bloodline will devote their lives to the Order, shall fight every bit of evil they come across, until the penance is paid.

"And that...is the key here," you concluded. "There's no escaping it. He said the right words in the right order and somewhere in the Celestial Scheme of things, it means that darkness will follow wherever we go, so we can defeat it, and little by little we pay the penance so one day...we can all go to Heaven.

“There’s no escaping it. Even if you wanted a peaceful life, there’s nowhere to run where that vow and the curse won’t follow. Where fate won’t find you.

“And it killed my grandfather. And it killed my father. And one day...either I get to go to Heaven, or it will kill me too and this will all be over."

Mary Victoria scrunched her face.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "It'll be over."

"Well it's gonna end with me," you explained. "I'm...I'm not having kids. I don't know how no one realized it before. Every man and his need to have a son and fucked a thousand years of our bloodline right in the ass."

"But why not just...kill yourself and let it be over now?" she speculated. "If you don't mind going to Hell? The other Knights will carry on the oath. Why prolong the inevitable?"

You felt yourself choke up.

"Th-thanks Mare," you laughed to try to avoid the pain. "Glad to know you're trying to get rid of me."

You saw a sign for a familiar exit up ahead and sighed.

"Well...I would happily just end it...you know? I would...I would spare myself of this mindless activity every day, I would finally get myself out from under the thumb of every priest and bishop and king who think they can manipulate me and use my power for their benefit, if it wasn't for Eddie, my boyfriend."

"Oh shit..."

"Yeah...you know...when he died I begged...I begged everyone, anyone, to undo this curse. Man did it, man could undo it. And when no one would…I asked for them to give me just one clue that Eddie was in Heaven. Everyone told me that if he was a good person, he would be waiting but I needed some kind of sign. He wasn't...he was good but was he Heaven good?

"I even wrote the Pope a letter begging for Beatification—I know, that’s a big stretch—and of course he never saw it. Some secretary sent me a Postcard back," you scoffed. "But I can't...think of him in Hell, I can't imagine him suffering a fate worse than Death because...because I love him. Because Eddie's love was the purest love I have ever known in my life. Because when I close my eyes or I fall asleep I still feel him and I will do anything, I would push myself as far as I can until my body breaks and my soul splits in two just for the chance to get back to him.

"I didn't even think that way when my own Father died. When the Vatican sent me his things, back from some mission that killed him. I was shocked; I could imagine him in Hell...in Purgatory...in some void...but I couldn't mourn, Mare. I didn't feel it, because...because that man wasn't my father...that man was the one who turned me into a weapon who had a fighting chance at something better.

"But he didn't love me. He wouldn't do this to me if he loved me." You gripped the steering wheel with a grip made of steel. It was a wonder that it didn't bend under your touch as the wrath started to fill you. "Maybe when I was born? Maybe...but how irresponsible is that? Knowing you're cursed to eternal damnation and letting your father try to fix it for you and bringing a child into the world just to let it suffer too."

"Now hey that's not fair," Mary Victoria interjected. "Hey now, hey...listen even when my mother and I were on the outs I never thought that she--"

You started talking over her.

"That's why it ends with me. It's not fate. No where was it ever written that there had to be a child to carry it on. They all had an out, they were selfish. There's even...there's even a journal of my great grandfather on the boat from Italy to America...surrounded by a thousand other people looking for a better future and a chance at some kind of prosperity. Sacrificing everything they know for absolute uncertainty. A dream that was a lie. But he talked about watching his small son play with another child. And he wondered if this new life would offer them salvation, if the curse would be left behind, so his son could be happy and free. News-fucking-flash Nonetto, if you didn't have a son, you wouldn't have needed to worry."

The road started to get precarious with potholes and fissures but you navigated them expertly. A weird fog had also started to roll in, and you simply turned your headlights off.

As if this trip wasn't already off to a smooth start. You needed to calm down before you drove into a ditch or hit something.

"Listen," you sighed and looked at Mary Victoria with openness and honesty. "Actually...don't listen to me. Of all the Knights you got saddled with you really got the fucked up one. If this is what you really want, I can help you. We can work together and...and maybe little by little I can break this curse and we can work on your abilities."

"But you just said the abilities are something you're born with," she reminded you.

"Eh...everyone has a little bit of it inside of them." You gestured vaguely out of the car. "There are plenty of people who can...read thoughts or commune with the dead or move things with their minds who haven't...fully unlocked their potential. Being a knight only involves goodness...heroic deeds...and in turn that just opens the door to these abilities a little further. I don't know what it is we might find in Hawkins, but...I don't know, maybe if we actually are able to do some good, we'll be able to see if those abilities can manifest in you."

Mary Victoria smiled wickedly.

"Ok...you know what would be cool," she prefaced. "If...if you could make explosions happen...or...or...conjure the power of the sun."

"Yeah I've seen that last one happen before," you agreed. "It's like...pretty useful against vampires actually."

"Seriously?" her jaw dropped. "Have you seriously seen vampires before?"

"I told you they were real!"

"I didn't think you were the one who faced them!" She turned in her seat and squared her shoulder. "Ok so now I'm really hoping that we face something crazy. Maybe it'll be vampires."

"Maybe."

"Or like...a werewolf...or...ok is Frankenstein's monster a thing because I think that—”

All of a sudden a shadowy figure crossed the road into the street and the two of you screamed as you hit it head on. It rolled over your windshield—cracking the glass—and off your car.

You hit the brakes hard and your car skidded to a stop. The two of you caught your breaths.

"What the fuck was that?" Mary Victoria asked weakly.

"I don't know maybe...maybe a fox or a deer," you rationalized and turned to look out the rear windshield, but all you could see was fog, somehow even denser behind you than it was up ahead.

"A fox?!" she shrieked. "That wasn't a fox!"

"A wolf then," you offered instead and turned back around in your seat. Just up ahead was a decaying green sign that said "Welcome to Hawkins" with the words HELL spray painted over the town name in red.

You felt panic start to grip you and you glanced back out the rear window once more.

You knew, more than anyone, the kind of creatures that haunted Hawkins.

Mary Victoria reached for the door handle and you grabbed her. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm gonna see if it's ok!"

"It's...listen if it's a wild animal, we can just get into town and ask if someone can come look with us." You motioned to the sign. "We're almost to town. It'll be ok."

"Hell," she scoffed. "Sure. Fine. Let's go."

Hell.

You repeated in your head.

More like home.

“Bravest hearts[s] will carry on when sleep is death, and hope is gone.” -- Emily Rodda, Rowan of Rin

Next Chapter: Descendió a los Infiernos

[mikimeiko]

Day 15 - Brno (Czechia)

I do manage to wake up earlier than yesterday! I decide to go check out the (formerly) industrial part of the city, starting with a walk alongside the Svitava river: there's a footpath/bike lane that goes along an old rail track that used to serve the factories (mostly textile mills) built on the riverside.

It's very pretty but even with no direct sun the weather is still pretty hot (and humid today), and even in the shade of the trees of a small park on the way it's not pleasant enough to just stop for a while and read.

So I decide to make the most of my 24h ticket that will expire in a couple of hours and go to Stránská Skála, a rock formation just out of the city (there's a tram that goes there. I LOVE taking trams to places outside cities). I wasn't sure what to expect, but I end up hiking to the top following a gentle enough path through trees and fields full of flowers.

I'm sure the view would be better if it wasn't overcast, but on the other hand most of the path is out of the trees and it would have been very hard to walk in the scorching sun. For the entire time I'm there I only see a couple of people, but I guess if you live here you just don't chose a day like today to go on the rock.

(I love places like these, gentle hikes that most people can enjoy. I live in a superflat valley right next to the Alps, the hikes that are usually available to me are INTENSE. But I don't want intense! I want gentle, calm and beautiful. That's why I particularly enjoyed walking the coast paths in the UK, I discovered a love of hiking there that I never thought I would have).

In the afternoon the sky clears up, the humidity lowers and the breeze comes back: it's nice enough that I decide to check out the bit of old town I haven't seen yet (there are still parts to be seen! This city is big!) and the park that surrounds Spilberk fortress.

It's a beautiful park but it's literally all up hill, and most of the paths are quite steep. I sit on a bench reading for a bit, enjoying the atmosphere. Then I climb up a little more, and I'm rewarded with this beautiful view of the cathedral (I could very likely get better views from higher up but HAVE I MENTIONED HOW STEEP THE PATHS ARE?).

I pass through the old town hall and I'm reminded that I haven't shared with you the most beautiful dragon in the world!

When I took this picture there was a Spanish family there with a tiny kid, and the kid was like "a crocodile! No... a dragon!"

I go back for the last time to the beer festival, and have halušky with sauerkraut and smoked bacon. And a radler. And yes, SUMMER OF THE RADLER. I still haven't find one as good as the watermelon one from Vienna, but radler beats both beer and lemonade right now. (I tried lemonade yesterday, it was good but definitely too sweet).

I keep thinking this is my last night in Czechia but it's not! I'll be in Plzen tomorrow night! Still sad to say goodbye to Brno, though, I think it might be my favourite city in this trip.

[lumenflowered]

Pelipper mail! A dream of a life quickly turning from wonder into horror.

There is a palace and cathedral set into the rock, at the far back end of the city. Imposing, awe-inspiring, from the outside, as such a building should be.

But on the inside… at first, it is normal. You swim through the decorated halls, even coming across a trio of thrones with portraits hung above. You find a prince’s bedroom, and rest there with daydreams of a life as royalty in a thriving civilization. But you cannot stay.

You move on to the church behind, and there you are stopped short by the sight ahead. All across the intricately carved floors and walls, spreading like spiderwebs to blanket the interior in layers too thick to see past to the stone behind, are threads and cords and ropes of meat.

Something is alive, here. Something that perhaps should not be, parasitizing this grand cathedral with its ever spreading flesh, pulsing and writhing all around you as you swim deeper. You cannot turn back, not now, not while any answer to the question of Mithalas’s fall and to your own past might still lay within.

You also cannot turn back because of the strong currents in the waters here, stirred up by who knows what, bringing enough force to bear even upon your streamlined form that your fins cannot carry you against them. But even if you physically could leave, the secrets beckon so sweetly. Whatever misdeeds long ago created this horror and trapped you inside, you must find out… and you hope, desperately, that neither you nor the mother you just recently recalled had a hand in the events that transpired.

It is a maze inside the cathedral, made worse by the walls of softly wriggling flesh that have overgrown the area. Monsters lurk here as well, poisonous from the slightest touch, and you find your supply of medicinal herbs running low the longer you explore.

And then the worst comes to pass. You see in the halls ahead figures shaped so similarly to yourself, to the statue that pointed you on your way to Mithalas… and they, too, are diseased. They too swim like simple predators searching for prey, without sign of higher thought in their so familiar faces. They attack you, and you sing the song of the Krotites and wield your boundless energy in response.

What plague could have beset this city, and turned these men and women into beasts?

It is enough for you to turn away from the upper reaches of the cathedral, and seek your answers below. And in the depths, beside a terrible, gaping hole into darkness, there are letters carved into the stone of the wall. A warning left by a survivor long ago, speaking of guilt and pain, beyond hoping for escape. A warning whose end identifies an enemy by name.

Sauguin, the anonymous survivor wrote. The Abyss given form, who watches from every shadow. The name is meaningless to you, as you can remember the name of no other living being but yourself, but you can feel the writer’s fear at its utterance as if it were your own. But there is nothing you can do with this knowledge, so you proceed further into the depths.

You have left the building now. Or at least, you hope you have left into some caverns below, because the meat lining every surface is so thick you cannot see any hint of what lies beyond. The currents too are stronger, pulling you onward even should you kick your legs to try to turn around.

It feels like ages, drifting through the tunnels, seeing nothing but pulsating flesh lining every surface, fighting and killing the diseased, poisoned creatures who used to be so much like yourself. And then, finally, you see stone again. You see bricks, carved and engraved.

You see a door, and it fills you with a foreboding that even the harrowing trip down here could not mirror.

You see a door, and through it, a god.

The monster before you was once great, that you can tell immediately. Once upright and noble, once capable of speech instead of primal roars, once with eyes filled with wisdom rather than pain and hunger.

The writing on the wall here is even more dire than the last. Even as the god-beast snaps at you, spits balls of energy that splash upon the far wall, you find yourself unable to ignore reading the words. “You have failed me,” it begins, and you realize it is no warning, but a message from a jailor to their captive. “Your hunger will consume you. Feast on the flesh of your own children.”

As the assault of energy upon you intensifies, and the strong current traps you within, you realize what you must do at last. Your own bolts seem so tiny in comparison, and fizzle against the monster’s fuchsia scales, but there is another way to hurt it. One of the malformed, plague-ridden people drifts through the door after you, propelled by the same current that prevents your own escape… and so you sing and bind the Verse around them, and hurl them into the great beast’s jaws.

Again and again you do it, until the poison takes its toll. The god, weakened, slows its movement, and you target bolts of energy into the only soft target you can find: the eyes. Finally, it falls, and you feel relief not that you are no longer in danger, but that you no longer have to do such horrible things in your own defense.

And just like the last, like the Krotite god before it, this god too reaches into your mind with his dying breath.

He tells the story of a flourishing city, with benevolent rulers and a noble god. But the priests delved into the secrets of the Verse, inventing terrible and discordant songs, even abandoning their patron Mithala in favor of another: a greater god, they said, a Creator who gave life to every god and every race and to Aquaria itself. A Creator who was not named, but you have your suspicions.

The priests bound Mithala, enslaved him, stole his lifeforce and his essence. Then, they sang a new song… and vanished. To where, the dying god cannot tell you.

Too late, you realize that this is your one chance to ask questions, to get answers about your own past, as you remembered so clearly that one house, that one kitchen, from who knows how long ago. You ask who you are, but the answer only prompts more questions.

You are the child of the Thirteenth, Mithala says. He calls you by name, and bids you journey to the land of the light. Before you can ask to clarify, the last of his strength leaves him. You have slain another god of the ocean, and his last words were of thanks.

Where will you go, now? You can feel the Verse humming around you, echoing the essence of Mithala in an audible chord, and as you kick your fins to leave at last, you vow to remember his song, and you repeat it. The change that comes over you is lesser, as compared to the Krotite song of war, but powerful nonetheless. Your legs grow stronger, fins wider, able to push through even a hostile current. Your jaws too… you dare not test them, but you wonder.

You too can become a vicious beast, should you will it, and stir the Verse with that fearsome song. This, and this alone, is the final legacy of a people so much like your own, yet not. A people plagued and destroyed by their own church, of which nothing remains but empty houses and ruined halls.

You can bear to stay here no longer. Where is the land of the light?

[When you awaken, you find twelve tiny red crystals, each a slightly different shape, arranged in a circle on your bedside table.]

I.d id notne ed that today .

Please excus eme for amoment.

[zutraeumen]

Unshackle Me

This is a part of my one-shot book about Gehrman called: Even the doll, should it please you… You can find the whole book on these platforms: FanFiction, AO3, Wattpad or Quotev.

Bloodborne belongs to its respectful owner.

Unshackle Me

―︎

"You're sure to be in a fine haze about now, but don't think too hard about all of this."

―︎

Clueless as you were in your role as the Hunter of the Dream, you felt like you were on the right track for once, and the feeling only grew as you traversed further into the macabre Forbidden Woods; in search of Byrgenwerth.

Beyond the many lurking dangers of the tangled woods, past the massive graves and its three shadowy figures, stood Byrgenwerth College. A research building of older times, it overlooked a lake, the building itself standing serenely as if gazing at the reflection of the moon.

You had just about enough of the Moon, thank you very much.

Several scattered scripts led you to this place. Yet in the end, it had been Alfred's words that convinced you to take a closer look into it - sounded promising - and thus raised your overall expectations. It was supposed to be a place of higher learning, of teachings most obscure that delved into the mysterious secrets of the Chalice Labyrinths, the Arcane knowledge of the Cosmos, and the Great Ones that inhabit it.

In this sense, you connected the dots that everything sacred in Yharnam could be traced back to the college, and therefore, saw it as a potential treasure horde of answers definitely worth dying a few times.

The Byrgenwerth spider hides all manner of rituals, and keeps our lost master from us. A terrible shame. It makes my head shudder uncontrollably.

The lost master mentioned in this note that you had found in a library on your way to Oedon Chapel was Master Willem, the very same Master Willem you had only gotten a glimpse of through the vision granted by touching that enormous beast skull at the altar of the Grand Cathedral. Hearing about him, he seemed significant to you, but meeting him in person was underwhelming, for there was little left of his mind.

The spider hides all manner of rituals, certain to reveal nothing, for true enlightenment need not be shared.

The 'spider' must have him trapped here, for there appeared to be some pale fungus growing on the back of his head. His eyes were covered, and you joked that he might have it there to hide pairs of bulbous yellow-tinted eyes alike the insectoid foes you had dispatched of all across the college's grounds.

You could still hear the rustling of many legs just under the terrace where you now stood. That THING you had not enough creativity to name, as well as deemed too pointless to trifle with.

"Our eyes are yet to open."

You remembered hearing the old man say to Laurence. You were not entirely sure you understood the full scope of his words, nor prevailed in you any true desire to discover his thoughts about how to achieve eldritch enlightenment. You would not let curiosity kill the cat.

Perhaps he was still waiting for that to happen to him in this creaking rocking chair of his, with a mind-robbed hunter donning robes of the Choir guarding the entrance to the terrace. The smell from the Rosmarinus still clung to your attire and you loathed it as much as you did the blood of the beast you killed on a daily basis.

The Provost breathed almost imperceptively. He WAS alive, you saw the small rise of his chest despite the thick layers of robes. Yet, there still came nought a sound from the old bugger (look who's talking, old hag), and his silence unnerved you because there was no way forward from this point; your trail came to a halt here.

Small traces of anger began to bubble up in you. Standing here in silence, in spite of the magnificent view, albeit without answers bothered you all the same. Age should have taught you by now that patience was a virtue, but you didn't come all this way for a knitting lesson with this coffin dodger!

Your feet carried you closer to him, and thoughts of knocking off his headwear to get him to wake up crossed your mind. Distantly reminding you of the way unruly children would disturb that lanky, old - what was his name? - farmer back in your small village by knocking off his straw hat whilst he dozed off in his chair. Once discovered, they would skip away in equal fright and laughter, a spring to their steps that only youth could give them.

Holy shit, you actually remembered something! Before you could indulge in a short episode of self-celebration, the unexpected happened.

Provost Willem spoke. Correction, he released a couple of unintelligible sounds that sounded as if his jaw and tongue had gone lax, but that was not all from him. You watched him raise the sceptre you failed to mention, and stepped out of the way as he slowly swung it towards the edge of the terrace.

What was he pointing at?

Captivated by this new development, you inched closer to the edge to see if there was anything suspicious. Surprise, surprise! There wasn't.

"I swear if this is supposed to be some sort of joke-"

Whack!

No sooner than you registered the scorching pain upon your back, did you realize that you were sent flying towards the moon-side lake. Expecting to be met with freezing water, you curl into a protective ball only to be met with hard ground, and not even cloth would have muffled the scream that tore from you.

Fucking hell, that fall must have positively shattered the entirety of your backbone (Oops, clumsy you!). Possibly worse. Despite your reservation about the consumption of healing blood, you didn't hesitate to inject a vial into your right thigh.

The pain ebbed away with the administrated dosage, but it still took you a while to pick yourself up. Old age and such. Rolling on your side, you tried to stay calm at the fact that you were standing on literal water, surrounded by a thick fog that stifled your senses.

As far as you knew, there was nothing around, until you turned around. Blinking away the mist in your gaze, you recognized a shape decisively not human. Was that the spider that was mentioned in the leftover notes?

Picking up your trusty Saw Cleaver, left discarded on the watery floor from the fall, you mentally prepared for a fight. Scrutinizing your enemy with each step you took.

If you didn't know any better, you would have never associated it with arachnids. More like a gigantic pillbug with numerous tiny legs holstering its weight. At its end, it had a silverfish-like tail and a bulbous body on which there appeared to be a garden of Coldblood flowers. Its face, on the other hand, resembled a chunk of pumice covered in multiple eyes, which might (or might not) suggest its connection to the Great Ones.

Overall, it seemed like easy prey, considering your previous encounters with such monsters. A bigger body to hit. Strangely enough, the alarm bells remained dormant, as if your instincts didn't recognize an immediate threat, even when you were a foot away from the 'Spider'.

Still nothing, it remained harmless like a butterfly.

Some part of your brain decided that it was a good idea to try and touch it, and stupidly enough, you did end up laying a tentative hand upon the creature's body. Patting as if it was a mere cat, you thought about your next course of action.

This situation was so different from what you were used to by that point that you had no clue how to proceed. Up until this confusing encounter; hostility from everywhere, from everything, from everyone was a given. For a monster to be this docile, well, that wasn't in the Hunter manual.

You had a feeling no other Hunter would vacillate as much as you did right now. As your cool kinswoman Eileen would say to you: Enough trembling in your boots. A hunter must hunt.

Some hunter you were! Slaying beasts was part of your job! Your contract! (signed against your will, mind you) Looking at yourself right now, in an inner debate to spare a monster, she would regard you with much disappointment. As would the rest of them. Alive or dead.

Lifting your weapon over your head, not much left to do to complete a swing other than let gravity do the rest, you willed yourself to initiate the fight - to do what hunters do.

Yet... you couldn't. It was against your nature, even despite them being everything that humans so feared. Cautionary tales parents told their children during bedtime.

Ah, you truly weren't cut out for this.

―︎

Gehrman POV

The old Hunter startled awake after yet another uneasy dream.

No, he didn't dream, he RELIVED.

The fiendish sins he had committed against the people of the Fishing Hamlet, albeit done at the behest of his Master Willem, were continuing to haunt him with avid precision. To a point where he could sooner recall them rather than his own name!

And Maria, oh the beautiful Maria that had never been his to begin with. He should have forwarded another to come with him, but the Provost personally requested both of them - Master and his best student - to assist his Byrgenwerth scholars to investigate the village.

Having been under the Master's servitude for a while now, trusted and respected, he was the one who armed the Tomb Prospectors with his crafty weaponry or tinkered with their attire. And was sometimes even asked to accompany them into the deep labyrinth under Yharnam, where he had gotten quite the experience fighting misbegotten creatures. After each kill, they would cleave them up and put the smaller pieces into containers to be brought back for research.

He realized that he had thought about the transformed people of the Fishing Hamlet the same way, and ushered cruel death upon them with his Burial Blade like one would a measly insect ready for dissection. Without sympathy for human life, hanging their mutilated corpses, they violently clawed their eyes out in search of a connection to the supposed Great Ones - until they carved a path towards one the villagers revered as Mother Kos.

It was there that their greatest blasphemy was committed...

At the end of a long, sodden tunnel was a beach, and ashore, a dead Great One. But that was not all they had found lingering there, for, during the act of desecrating even this corpse, they had found the greatest discovery yet - an unborn child.

They were foolish, blinded by the flame of greed. By separating the fetus from its mother, they murdered an infant in their search for advancing humanity and invoked the wrath of Kos. A curse that not even Flora could lift from him.

The old Hunter wouldn't have known at the time, but he had become the very same monster he had so prided himself on killing. Many who would hear his punishment would say it was a deserved one, and he thought so too, from the moment it drove his beloved Maria away from him. From being a Hunter altogether.

Together with Laurence, when the Scourge of Beasts was becoming too much to handle even for Ludwig and his Holy Blades, they beckoned another Great One through the umbilical cord of the very child he had cut from the belly of its mother.

Life without Maria held no meaning for him. He wasn't even strong enough to protect the citizens of Yharnam against the beast that multiplied like rats. It wasn't difficult to consent to Laurence's idea.

The times when he would indulge his hobby of making adjustments to his everyday clothing and tools seemed so very distant to him now. So far, indeed, that after Lady Maria's death and his subsequential confinement to the Hunter's Dream, he would not ever craft something of brutish nature ever again.

Guilt, loss, and uselessness paved the way for the depravity of thought, morals, and reason. Concepts of purity like love would deteriorate into an obsessive mania, as proof that he couldn't move on from Lady Maria's passing.

So, in the image of the only person he thought he ever loved, he made the Plain Doll.

Designed to perfection, down to the most minuscule detail, no facet was left different from its role model. And then Flora brought the Doll to life, and Gehrman, misguided as he had been, indulged himself in his carnal desires despite knowing that the porcelain doll could never live up to the real thing no matter how he wished it.

Bitterness and anger came first, where he would grow distant and indifferent towards the Doll as if he wasn't the one who created her with tender affection. Her mere existence was perceived as an affront towards his genuine - even if unbecoming - feelings for Lady Maria.

Then followed days upon days of loneliness with no one else to keep him company other than his own voice. With his future sealed, the present a repeating cycle, he was left with no choice but to seek refuge in the past.

Hours of self-reflection brought great shame to overcome him, he felt disgusted with himself, his actions, and even cried at the mere notion that he had defiled something so pure and innocent as the Doll. What would Maria think of him, he dared not to imagine, but he doubted it would be any different from what he already thought of himself.

A monster, that was what he was. One that absolutely deserved to be trapped in this gilded cage.

He knew not what to expect of the Great One when they had struck an accord with it. How it would uphold its end of the bargain, but that changed when the first hunter came into the Workshop.

Most of them came young, and knew little of the skillset necessary for the hunting of beasts, and it was then that the old hunter realized his purpose in this new plane of existence - this Hunter's Dream - a guide for new hunters.

The mantle of mentorship hadn't been new to him. The nostalgia of his days before the Scourge of Beasts had hit him hard, and for a sweet moment, he had forgotten his pain until this too, became part of his monotone existence.

For the Hunters of the Dream quickly began to grow disinterested in him and eventually, he of them as well.

But never the soft-spoken Doll, who jumped to serve their every need just like he once done himself. He couldn't care less, she meant nothing to him at this point, any superficial affections he might have held because she was the spitting image of his love interest disappeared long ago.

They were all of a piece until the time came when they had outgrown their use, and Flora brought them to his tree, and he would give them a choice. A choice he would never get to have - to be freed of this Dream and walk in the waking world once more. Even when they resisted, far too lost in their drunkness for blood, he would grant them mercy.

Any other outcome wasn't allowed.

He would not have it any other way. Gehrman would never let another take his place, to condemn someone to this nightmare he had brought upon himself. His burden was never one to be shared or given away.

And so new gravestones sprouted from the earth, with each freed Hunter...

... until you came.

You were inherently different than any other soul that had bound itself to the Dream, there was that air about you told him on itself.

For starters, you were old, possibly the oldest Hunter of the Dream yet, however, you carried your age well and he suspected you must have been a fair maiden back in your days.

But for now, you matched his mouse-grey hair, but he thought they suited you much better than him. The cropped strands barely peeked out of your Top Hat, it was strange to see a woman wear one, but the round, silverly spectacles complimented your striking grey eyes the most. They gave you an academic aura that reminded him of his time working for Byrgenwerth and often not, would transfix him in their lingering wisdom.

For a woman your age, you were quite tall as well. Or perhaps it only appeared so because he sat in his wheelchair, who knows? The Doll seemed to favour you the most. Although she held past Hunters in high regard and treated them with deep respect, out of all of them, you openly engaged her during every given opportunity.

To you, she would never be just a tool.

Conversing with her as if the knowledge that the Plain Doll was a mere inanimate object eluded you. Without a will of her own, Gehrman disregarded the Doll long ago because of that same aspect, but you, on the other end, he watched you take your time to listen like a grandmother would to their grandchild.

The Doll loved you for it.

Some distant part of him (one he would never admit out loud) adored you for it as well, that the two of you shared anything, no matter how small, in common. It made him feel connected to you, it made him feel happy.

From your words alone, he had gathered that you were a kind soul. Far too kind to exercise such an unsavoury job. Back in the day, many would have misjudged you for your lack of necessary violence (Valtr, for sure). Being the most experienced of them all, he wouldn't do you wrong by underestimating you.

He hadn't done so when recruiting young Maria from the Knights of Cainhurst during times when the Healing Church resided in its infancy. She didn't count among the last to be recruited to his Workshop, but her potential was the one Gehrman had wanted to realize the most.

And in the end, Maria had proven herself in the eyes of every doubter, how deadly of a hunter she had become. With her delicate expertise of the Rakuyo, which required great dexterity to wield, and the mastering of his Quickening.

If he strained his memory long enough, he could recall how proud he had been. Of the way she had blossomed into a stunning lady until one day, while fighting every day, side by side, he came upon the realization that his feelings had changed.

There was no chance of him to pinpoint the exact moment Maria became more to him than his most accomplished apprentice. But it happened so seamlessly that Gehrman easily convinced himself that he never felt anything else for her from the very beginning.

Despite that, he had never found the courage to confess his feelings towards Maria. He had read books, of course, detailing the ways of wooing and courtship, but... Inexperience led to illusion, and there hadn't been a more heartbreaking day than the day he realized that the enchanting beauty would never reciprocate his feelings. That they would never exceed anything other than admiration for her mentor. Just like it always should have been.

By the Gods, he had known for a long time. From the way they had interacted, from the way she looked at him, from the way she talked about him to others.

It was he who was in the wrong, he who had hoped for more, he who had lied to himself.

Never his Maria. Never his Lumenflower.

Then, he had lost her. And so his last chance to tell her the full extent of his amorous feelings.

But you... you... you...

You were nothing like her. There was no potential to draw out from you. His keen eyes spied not a drop of talent in you. Might he have been younger, he would perhaps have found ways to fletch you into a somewhat acceptable hunter still, the toll of his existence made itself known in many ways.

There was very little he could offer you, yet you still came to him.

You actively searched him out of your own volition, even bypassing the Doll in some instances.

Unbelievably enough, even his moments of weakness never deterred you. You probably thought he wouldn't catch onto this, but he sometimes awoke to your touch, soft and harmless, that made him slowly forget what he dreamt about within the next seconds.

Your presence calmed him, he might even say it brought him some measure of peace he had not experienced for far too long. It did not stop the nightmares, but you would be there to soothe him should he awake from them. Your tenderness drew warmth into his being once again, syphoned feelings into his heart, and inspired thoughts back into his decaying brain.

Life.

Just as Flora had done to his Plain Doll, you had planted a seed of life into him, one he was unsure if he had the strength left to nurture. Gehrman was confounded, you have been part of the Dream for some time now, even if his perception of time was somewhat unreliable, they had formed a bond of sorts.

And as much as he wouldn't like to acknowledge it to himself, he had come to rely on you and anticipate your return with fondness.

―︎

In the end, you found out there was no other way, no matter how far you walked, the mist churned endlessly around. No Hunter Marks to make use of.

Left with no other choice, you engaged the Spider with a heavy weight in your stomach.

Following your victory, you approached the ever-wailing Queen Yharnam when suddenly, a red Moon began descending. You had never been more sure of your impending doom, so much that you have not even attempted to run away, but in turn, found yourself transported to a forgotten church; a nook of the Upper Cathedral Ward you have had yet to discover.

And it was then that you witnessed TRUE HORROR; in the form of an alien beast outside the designs of nature you had no name of. With seven arms and a lean, almost branch-like body with an opening in the chest. Intrusive thoughts imagined how its six clawed fingers would strike with frightening speed like a mantis, or crush your feeble form in one of its massive palms.

If the sight alone didn't inspire enough fear for your legs to move, then it must have been the prickling sensation in your head. Something was attempting to reach you - your thoughts. You didn't give in, even as you hightailed past its many enemies and towards the safety of the Oedon Chapel.

Gone was the blue of the sky, and the Moon appeared larger than you remembered it. Everything was bathed in sickly orange light and there was an unending cry of a newborn babe resonating in the air, with no clear source to be determined. A new, stifling atmosphere had taken over Yharnam and you feared for the survivors at the Chapel.

Your thoughts were racing at impossible speed - falling into a perpetual cycle of why's and how's. You should have never searched for answers you weren't ready for because there was one thing that had become blatantly clear, killing the Spider set off a change that put dread into your very soul because you hadn't meant it. You were as unprepared for what awaited you as the day you have gotten into this mess.

Regardless, you raced as quickly as your tired feet could carry you, taking every possible shortcut there was at your disposal to get there.

You made it past the giant, imposing gate and down the long set of stairs that would lead you to the corner Eileen would occupy. You only needed to round the wooden carriage and-

"Miss Hunter!"

You tensed in surprise before a small body came barreling into you. It took you a second too long to realize who it was, then didn't hesitate to scoop her up by her armpits. Frantically, your eyes searched for anything that might indicate bodily harm and a stone dropped from your heart when you found none. Gascoigne's daughter was okay, your head shot up when you heard another pair of smaller boots; both were okay.

With a wail of relief equal to that of a worried mother, you shoved the girl into your embrace, small fingers clutching into the lapels of your coat. Sobs wracked through the child in your arms, and you barely gulped down the tremble in your voice when you tried to shush her with soothing words.

The kid brought you immense comfort, but still, there were numerous eyes continuing to watch you and it unnerved you. With clammy hands, you shifted one daughter into the cleft of one arm while reaching out for the smaller hand of the other. You didn't expect her to actually take it, but she did and so you steered them back into the safety of Oedon Chapel.

Your body relaxed from its hypertonic state when the familiar waft of incense made it to your nostrils, "Is everyone safe?"

Your voice resonated within the gothic structure, loud and clear, which seem to startle the old lady on her chair, but surprisingly, she didn't begin her usual judgmental ravings but remained oddly quiet, muttering unintelligibly to herself. The man, distrustful as he was, continued to at his corner, seemingly fine and completely unbothered to give any sort of response. Adella seemed to be faring well too, at first glance.

Gascoigne's younger daughter calmed down by the time you reassured yourself of the wellbeing of the group, and began tugging at your hand incessantly, "Lady Arianna, Miss Hunter, she is not feeling well. She is groaning and clutching at her tummy as if she had a tummy ache. I used to have those when I ate too fast..."

Arriving at the lamp, it was as the small girl said, your friend was hunched over in obvious pain and you waste no time approaching her chair with great concern. You said her name and watched as she closed her eyes shut in response.

"Oh, hello there. Forgive me, I'm a bit out of sorts. So, no blood today, okay?"

Shaking your head while taking down your hat, you gave it to the older sister to hold while you tried your best to inspect the hurting woman before you. You were no doctor, but you were a fellow woman, if you could elevate your friend of any semblance of pain, it would ease your heart considerably.

"Wouldn't dream of it, talk to me Arianna, what's wrong?"

Another groan, deeper than the rest, escaped the woman of pleasure, as if it required considerable effort to form a reply. The girls stayed quiet behind you.

"I don't know deary, my stomach hurts so terribly."

You reached for her hand, finding it shaking and clammy, "Is it your moon cycle?"

"Impossible, I am not bleeding."

Your sense of smell agreed with her. There was no blood on her person that you could sniff out.

"Would a blood vial help?" you asked, fishing out one out of your many pockets. Your right thigh tingled in anticipation, as if it waited for you to inject yourself in a reflexive response to a fatal injury.

You, with practised precision, jabbed the needle into the next best place that wasn't covered by her gown. You held onto her as she experienced the familiar rush of ecstasy. Invigoration at its finest, there was no wonder the residents of Yharnam preferred it over alcohol.

"Ahhh... I am afraid it didn't work darling. Oh...there's something wrong with me..."

Helpless, you scrambled in your brain for alternatives. Despite it being some time after your last moon cycle, you remembered distinctly what you used to do, one simply couldn't sever himself this easily from an experience that went on for the better half of life.

"What is wrong with Lady Arianna, Miss Hunter?" The girl with a white ribbon asked, her childly voice carrying innocent confusion that would never fail to grow in your heart. She was too innocent for this world.

In lack of a suitable white lie, you shifted your attention towards the Dweller, whose spindly arms were lighting another pot of incense. You knew he'd help the only woman - second to you - who would speak to him from time to time. A kind soul through and through.

"Yes, kind hunter? How can I be of service to you?" There was an adorable tilt of joy in his frail voice, excitement at the prospect of being useful.

There was nothing but softness as you addressed him, "We need to get Arianna from this chair to a more comfortable place. Do you have a few pillows for her, a blanket preferably as well?"

"Certainly, Miss Hunter, but I'm afraid I am out of blankets." His head dropped and his expression fell rapidly.

That was when the Gascoigne's older daughter cut in, "I can give her mine. My sister's big enough for us two."

You smiled and nodded in satisfaction, it felt wonderful to have the support of others for a change. With that settled, you worked together to create a soft corner for Arianna to lie down and rest. You also inquired if he would be so kind as to make a kettle of tea and serve it to the pained woman in hopes the warmth might make her feel better.

You turned and knelt in front of the kids, taking each small hand into your own with care, "Listen kids, let Lady Arianna rest and listen to the Dweller while I am away, can you do that for me dearies?"

"Of course, Miss Hunter. We'll be good, but where are you going?"

Your thoughts steered towards Gilbert and his decaying health, "To visit a friend and see if he's alright."

"Okay..." she went in for a hug, "we love you, Miss Hunter, and we will miss you!"

You kissed the top of her head and squeezed her sister's hand, although you weren't as close to her as to her younger counterpart, you came to care for her too. You would be back before they knew it.

Or so you thought, until you arrived at Gilbert's window.

The light that usually shone behind the barred window was extinguished. The iron bars you used to speak through to your friend were bent open, as if something was trying to get in...false - get out.

Your ears picked up irregular steps, heavy breathing and menacing growling. A beast lurked about, just around this corn-

It jumped you with the ferocity of any other beast in Central Yharnam, only this didn't resemble any of the usual prey in this area. With a werewolf-like, thin and elongated body that was covered in bandages and ripped cloth, exposing its fur. Sharp nails sought to pierce, cut, sink into paper-thin skin, but found no other than the sharpened metal of your Saw Cleaver.

With the strength of many blood souls, this enemy which you first encountered in Old Yharnam, was no serious threat to you. And it fell to one precise strike with a yowl, laying dead about your feet.

Your breath calmed, your heart slowed, your mind cleared... and realization followed.

"By the Gods, GILBERT!"

The beast you have just slain was your outsider friend, who at the precipice of his affliction, turned into the very same beast you hunted. His mind fully succumbed to the hunt for the blood of humans.

"No, no, no, this isn't real, no, no, no..."

This was not your Gilbert that you connected with at the beginning of your Hunt. This was not the Gilbert that gave you useful information whenever you failed at navigating the monotone streets of Yharnam. This was not the Gilbert you'd share a cup of tea over words.

This was not the Gilbert you knew, yet why did it hurt as if he were?

"Why... me... why? Dear gods, what have I done? Save me."

Tears flooded your eyes as the full brunt of emotions crashed into you like a tsunami. The strength in your legs left you, you didn't even register the painful way your knees crashed against the hard, wet concrete.

Your heart felt as if wanted to squeeze the life out of you, while your throat tried to suffocate you. You felt immense pain at the loss of your friend. He had considered himself lucky to be unharmed by the plague of beasts. He felt happy at the prospect of keeping his humanity at death's doorstep.

But his sickness robbed that from him, and you grieved for him, and blamed yourself for not ending his life before he could turn. You should have been here for him, to the end, what have you done instead? You went gallivanting into the woods because of some stupid sense of curiosity.

Glancing at the corpse, you couldn't stomach the sight and its implications any longer and reached for the lamp. You NEEDED to get away, IMMEDIATELY.

And so as if to answer your wishes, the Messengers whisked you away into the Dream.

―︎

Gehrman POV

It was all the same.

The same air. The same smell. The same sights. The same dreams.

All tied into a repetitive loop. A ring with no end nor beginning.

Then he opened his eyes and saw you.

And all was well again.

The air changed. The smell changed. The sight changed. The dreams ended.

And he was alive again.

The old hunter lifted his head, tipping his hat to properly look at you. He had never braved to open his eyes at your caress, fearful he would be caught by your silver orbs. But now that you were fast asleep, his bravery shone through and he dared to dip his toes into the waters of uncertainty.

He watched as you leaned against the side of his chair, your posture slumped. It looked uncomfortable as the position had you bent your spine strangely, limbs hanging loosely. Gehrman took the liberty of gazing at your face, from this angle, getting a full picture was impossible without leaving his chair, but it was enough for him.

Worry etched his aged face as he spied the puffy redness around your eyes, and nose. Paths of dried tears slowly faded away, and there was no doubt in his mind that you had been crying recently. The world out there was cruel and unforgiving, that was never in question, but to see it have an impact on you - on such a beautiful soul - upset him.

You appeared vulnerable, and he couldn't imagine why you would go to him in such a delicate state. Surely the Doll would have gladly accepted you into her arms? He could ponder over your illusive reason all he wanted but in the end, Gehrman felt privileged, honoured even.

But the real issue was here, how would he go on about comforting you?

He wasn't short on ideas, but of confidence to execute them. Offering someone emotional support didn't count among his strong suits, but he felt something about you, so it made it easier. You were past being strangers the moment you sought him out in the back garden. The moment you first connected through touch.

"Just follow your heart you old fool, before she wakes up," he thought and conceded. His movements were deliberate, led by what his hopeful heart perceived as best, the old hunter's hand left his cane and moved over to where you were.

That wretched muscle behind his breastbone thumped as never before as his hand hovered over your head. Doubts over his actions forced him to hesitate once more, but he wouldn't be deterred, and after a slow, dry swallow of his own saliva, the first finger skimmed over the short blades of your mouse-grey hair.

His breath involuntarily hitched. It was soft, barely perceptible and he wondered how long it has been since he had touched something of that texture. Too long, apparently, for he chased more of this sensation with the rest of his hand and it wasn't long until his whole hand rested on your angled head.

He could hear the beat of his own heart in his ears. Touching you was thrilling in ways that resembled a hunt of a beast in the late nights in Yharnam. Gehrman couldn't remember an instance where he had been that close to a woman before that wasn't his mother. What did she look like?

Gehrman felt invigorated like never before! Vitality seemed to exude from him in spades!

Until he felt you twitch, then he went really quiet, as if the beast he hunted caught his scent. His petting ceased to a mere touch without pressure. Fearing that he might have inadvertently woken you up with his newfound enthusiasm, his hand was about to recoil when you slumped even further against his wheelchair, head pressing into his palm.

And only after moments of pause, to reassure that you have fallen back into the lands of dreams, resumed his tender, affectionate, mitigative caress. It gave him something to resist the iron pull of his depressive thoughts.

With you by his side, he could escape the cruel reality of his existence and find refuge in your measured breathing.

And once again, hidden from the only set of eyes in this dream, stood the Doll. Hands intertwined in front of her, with a kind smile on her vestal face, rejoicing in the slow entanglement of two lost souls.

[thorsenmark]

In Rapture of Light at Yosemite National Park by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A setting looking to the northeast while taking in views across the Merced River and nearby grassy meadow and forest to ridges and peaks of Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.

[hermitcraftkinfessions]

kicks rocks... i miss my friends... both as in i miss them now and wish i could find em, and missed them back then..

ya see, in season 1 of empires i was already a deity, but my creator sent me off to live with mortals when i was a kid and never knew who they were.. but by the finale when i die i ascended to "true godhood" and met up with my creator, big fuck you to that guy.

after Afterlife smp came season 2, where everyone well. didnt really. keep their memories as they reincarnated in new bodies.. althrough oddly similar to the last ones, some changes tho, ofc. But like. I retained all my memories, cause I was still me, I died as a "mortal", sure, I ascended, but still had the same memories of my mortal life. Still remembered my friends, my lover, my family. And none of them remembered me :( But fear not, dear readers /silly

For I did not give up, and like any good god, I could shapeshift, so I used that to my advantage! Shapeshifting as animals, old people, children, even appearing momentarily as an actual god, similar to my s1 looks but taller and with more gold accessories, but I only pulled that last one in moments they were very out of it so they thought they just had a fever dream. Like right before bed or for a fraction of a second around holy places (the cathedral, etc) Oh yes I looked over them, interacted briefly, they were different people but they were also in a way still my friends. They were still in there, I swear.

I also- I remember when I met Scott for the first time I threw away the "small interactions", i straight up shapeshifted into a mortal farmer (pretty similar to my s1 me but less fancy) and introduced myself to him, in a natural way, ofc- we started talking and yknow yeah we mightve fallen in love, and eventually i mightve told him the truth and he mightve been upset and thought i just loved his past self and not him... which at first was true, but i did love him by that point! he wasnt the SAME Scott i used to know but he was just as lovely in his own way! and eventually im p sure he regained some memories, was still himself, but then he could rember. and yeah we made up and stuff but we had a bit of a fall out when he found out the truth at first.. oops...

also gods (of a ""lower"" ranking like myself-) maaay have had a rule set by older ones/higher ups abt not interfering much with mortals... which i kinda rlly broke just there... and eventually w others too.. oopsiessss... twirls my hair w guilty big ol eyes

also pix was. somehow. a human yet immortal?? so he dissapeared in season 1 before the finale but by season 2 was the same guy who had been a historian/archeologist for years and had seen a bunch of shit happen *himself*, so yeaaah when we met it was also super emotional cause he remembered me. What I shifted as when we first met? call me stupid, but for some reason it was a child(11-14), I could control it but also not- at times it just kinda came out. I stayed like that even after he told me he knew who I was and I told him abt ascending and allat... yeah.... does that count as god-age regression /silly

another empires mems ramble!

-🌙Pearlie (He/She)

interesting, i really don't know what to put here, mod ex is more versed in things of this caliber but they're asleep so its just me

-Mod hels

[one-winged-dreams]

A Pale Horse

ship: my cathedral is the badlands (adriel x joshua graham) source: Fallout: New Vegas words: 820

Ended up with akathisia too bad to sleep so wrote this instead.

The canopy of stars above stretched further than the eyes could see, Zion's isolation from the settlements of the Mojave keeping it free from any light that could pollute the sky. It was vast and infinite, one could easily get lost in existentialism when faced with such a sight. So many suns burning across the galaxy, many of them already dead, as the planet could only await the light of new ones.

Beneath the veil of night and its insight into the void of space above, a fire burned, its embers lifting almost in mimicry of the stars. In place of a vast silence, it crackled softly, a comforting sound to many a drifter and one that had lulled them to sleep for more nights than they could count.

Above the crackle of wood flames, a voice had been droning on with eloquent words of the end of days.

"And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say - 'come and see.' And I looked, and behold a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him."

Joshua often found himself retelling this ironic scripture - the Book of Revelations was Adriel's favorite. The drifter's sense of faith still eluded the burned man, whether he was a true man of god or simply along for this complicated journey called life. Regardless of which, he seemed to take comfort in Joshua reading to him.

In testament to this, Joshua looked beside him as he lay propped against a rock. The soft-faced drifter had faded off into the embrace of sleep not too long ago, it would seem.

"Sleep is like a little taste of death," Adriel had explained. "Including the part where you leave without knowing where you're going. Or maybe especially that."

Joshua heavily assumed that to be the reason that the scripture was his choice in literature to help him fade into sleep's gentle grasp. Regardless of his faith, Adriel seemed to have a relevant relationship with a higher power - if not just death and what lay beyond.

The burned man closed the weathered black book, placing it at his side as he turned his attention to the sleeping man next to him. His breaths were soft and far apart, as if he had just fallen into a comfortable depth. His black curtains of hair had fallen across his face, and Joshua reached forth to remedy that, tucking it behind his ear with a gentleness that made his past pang distantly within his heart with a dull ache.

Looking up past his slumberous companion, he saw the light of the flame flickering over the gravestones Adriel had invited him to come tend to. He knew that the drifter had been procrastinating leaving the canyon, he and Joshua had become far too close for him to want to part now. But he had managed to hear word of one last graveyard, and he had extended an invitation for Joshua to accompany him this time.

And how could he refuse? Adriel had spoken of his reason for traveling not long after he had arrived. He had explained the semantics, the departed were not undeserving of a semblance of dignity, and refreshing their places of rest would do well to allow their spirits to thrive in the hereafter.

Joshua had found it an honorable, if not touching prospect, and had wholeheartedly supported his endeavor. But never had he considered joining him, perhaps because he found it difficult to conceive anyone, himself included, would find him suitable for the task.

This was most likely the last one in Zion intact enough to perform the rite. Adriel had lingered long enough, he would certainly have to move on now that there was no longer a reason for him remaining here.

The inevitable thought of parting. Joshua didn't want to think about it. Instead, he watched his companion sleep for a few more beats before his gaze turned skyward. And this was how he remained before he felt a light stir beside him.

"Joshua..."

The burned man quickly returned his gaze to Adriel. His eyes remained closed, his breathing still slow. He almost wondered if he had imagined it before the drifter stirred again.

"Leave with me..."

Joshua blinked in surprise at the sudden request that both of them had held onto but never spoken aloud. Composing himself, he stroked Adriel's raven hair.

"You're dreaming, Adriel," he spoke softly.

The drifter took a breath and then settled down again.

"'m not..."

"You-"

"Please...?"

Silence stretched on, and Adriel's appearance remained as if he were merely sleep-talking.

But Joshua knew better.

And neither of them could keep the wheels from turning now. A decision would have to be made, and one way or the other, it wouldn't be an easy one by any stretch.

"... Go back to sleep, Adriel."

[bettercostume]

i have thoughts about the jedi temple on coruscant. anyway:

its insane that its in like, the Tokyo of star wars. its like, sorry to mix similies, the church of scientology building in dupont circle, or the happy science places in said metropolis.

that being said, the fact that its shaped like a cathedral is boring! i think instead it would be partially a modern structure like we see in the prequels, but i think it would have set within it a massive piece of natural rock that the jedi pulled up from the depths of the planet's surface. I think the outside is business, and the inside is more organic and non-linear and intuitively designed, because the jedi are very strange, have members from multiple species, and have mindfuck powers.

so this massive spar of rock is the farthest wall of the building, and then the lower levels are carved out of it below the main floor. Party in the back. I think the raw face of the rock, once you got to the end of each hallway, or the far end of the training arena, would serve as a meditative and metaphoric object: you cannot move forward. i think they would use a lot of esoteric architecture that channels the force, etc

but also have a massive hollow center in the building, like the center of a teahouse or a courtyard in an apartment building or any of the insane architecture in the death star. you can access it at any level, not just ground, based on force-floated platforms. they would find vertical space and fluidity of space outside of their big fuckoff rock wall as very natural.

i think economy of space and use of everything right down to the bone would appeal to jedi, so i believe many rooms would be modular, everything serves multiple purposes, the shale boulder is a door or a table or a platform, everyone has a murphy bed. I think there are likely gardens at higher levels but they are built into crags, corners, rooftops.

I think also for training there would be no privacy. I think at the peak of their practice, jedi are a powerful political faction, cult, and experimental homeschooling practice and they need everyone to know the party line and form a very strong jedi identity. also i think the force flourishes in use and mass, because it's like emotion.

SO. when someone is exiled, it is very hard to reintegrate to society because it's like leaving the church. even if you hate it, the pull of it is undeniable. and hence i think the sith crave this connection and also decry it. it is the ultimate emotional burden and yet it cannot be acknowledged, and i think that also causes a lot of stress to very pure force users who have grown up in a rule-based system but are realizing they don't fully make sense in practice.

these are my thoughts for this thing i am doing. i think someone alienated would do a lot to keep it from happening again, were they given a second chance

[convexicalcrow]

Dealing with having the 'rona has been mostly unproductive, but the last couple of days I've wanted to play minecraft again. I wasn't up to continuing the work on the cathedral yet bc I'm still trying to work out how to do the details on the front towers, so I thought I'd finally move the five villagers from their temporary little shack and into a proper building. It's arguably not much of a blacksmith's building, but it is what it is lol. Still needs interiors, but they're all moved in now and have a lot more space for themselves now. It gave me the chance to finally tear down that old shack and make some more farmland.

Before that, I did some work on the mine entrance that's below where this building sits. I felt like it was time to pretty it up and stop having janky staircases cut into the sides of the rocks lol. So I made proper staircases down to the xp grinder and to the branch mine.

I want to add in some texture to the stone and add back in some of the moss and azalea bushes that used to decorate the place as well as some more decoration, but I'm much happier with this now.

This isn't directly inspired by fWhip's quarry in his hardcore series, but I liked the idea of turning this area, where my mine entrance is, into something better.

And this is my little starter area where I first lived when I moved here. It was a natural cave that I carved out a small area into for storage and I lived there until I built my actual starter house.

This was where my chests used to be, and I'd always imagined doing something with this empty space one day, and now it holds a small furnace array, a bed, and some small storage space, and links through to the mine entrance.

This is now the route down to the cave floor. I widened the staircase and made a more proper way down to the floor. Before this, it was literally down a staircase I carved into the wall on the right in the bottom picture. Also I can't go much higher for that first platform bc there's a flooded cave right above me lol.

This leads down to the spawner. I forgot to screenshot it, but in the left photo, if you turn right there on the diorite, you'll find the staircase down to the branch mine. There's nothing particularly spectacular about it, it's just a plain staircase down, with a break in the middle where I started chasing an iron vein.

And this is the new staircase down to the floor where the xp farm is. I should probably do a more visible entrance for that as it really just is a hole in the floor lol. The dungeon was down a little windy cave and I've used that for the entrance. I really like the transition layer between regular stone and deepslate, I think it looks really pretty. I may texture it up a little more, since for the most part, everything is either stone or deepslate while I decide how I want to add texture.

My plan for the branch mines is to widen and heighten the main tunnels and build something nice down there. I may also put a mini smelter array down there as well. I've considered a rail system as well, to take stuff back to the surface, but idk we'll see.

Also this was all triggered by Cub's last episode where I finally got inspired about what to do with my very broken first unenchanted diamond pickaxe to honour its service. It's down there on the floor for now, but it'll be somewhere more special later on once I get working on the design down there. I also have an amethyst farm down there as well that I want to do something pretty with other than just have the amethyst buds sitting there carved out of the stone.

Also I have finally caved and decided that I am going to have to do a Bdubs and ride everywhere bc my base is just so. long. omg. XD It's faster to ride to the fishing shack to get fish to tame a cat than it is to walk lol. I did bag myself another Jellie cat though! :D

Oh. And I finally put efficiency iv on my silk touch pick. Which, okay, it's not eff v, but hey, it had no efficiency at all before now, so. XD It's a vast improvement.