pc: kaworu

[sacredpath]

Comments

[sacredpath]

I can't say that that's the problem with mine.

[too many possible endings, with no way to remember anymore which one was true.]

[peripheries]

[Turns his head slightly and gives her major side-eye.]

So which one are you now?

[sacredpath]

Which one?

[what does he mean by that...]

[peripheries]

Which path are you on? Are you still the one I know? Or a different one? Or all of them?

[He leans his head back against the wall, exhaling slowly, like someone trying not to get motion sick.]

[sacredpath]

How would I know the answer to that? I can't even untangle which I believed before today and which I didn't.

[peripheries]

What causes your beliefs to be so drastically different that you cannot tell which ones were core to you before?

[sacredpath]

[that's a great question.]

Don't you ever feel that if things had happened to you differently, you might be a very different person?

[peripheries]

Yes. I know I my life would be completely different if I'd been allowed to go out in the world and make connections with others. But my environment is always tightly controlled so that was never possible.

What made the difference?

[sacredpath]

[i think it may be the exact thing he just said.]

Maybe it's that I did get the chance to go out into the world. Whatever those first connections you had were would matter, wouldn't they?

[peripheries]

Without question. They would be instrumental in shaping who you become.

[He leans back against the wall, letting his body go slack.]

Who were they?

[sacredpath]

[hmmm....]

On the road, I met people. We were all in a shared predicament, so we were forced to travel together. But some of them had priorities that were different than mine.

We wound up spending a great deal of time that I'm not sure we had to spare untangling problems for other people. And I complained, and resented it, but... if I must live in the memory of a world where I put my foot down, where we never made those same choices, where I was willing to part ways with them over their weakness in insisting on using our efforts to save helpless peoples' lives, I find it a dreadful world to contemplate.

[peripheries]

People seem to be at the center of who we are.

Are you afraid that the real you might be one where you chose to say the same?

[He would be.]

[sacredpath]

That is a terrifying thought, isn't it? [smile.] Unless it's the truth. In which case, I'm more afraid that the real one made a mistake and threw away everything that meant anything to me.

week 2; friday

[sacredpath]

[okay well she's a little bit hungover looking but sorry to everyone who doubted her and told her drinking on thursday is a bad idea, i lived, bitch.

where are we, the void? she's here in the void.]

A room to myself at last.

[wait...]

Um, awful joke. I find it hard to believe anyone would have hurt her.

[peripheries]

It is... but based on our previous conversations. I don't think that's the person you are. You seem like someone who means well. Just a bit sloppy for an adult.

[sacredpath]

[kaworu who gave you permission to become so cute.]

You're annoying for a child, so we're even. [...] Thank you for saying so.

[peripheries]

[Damn girl u sloppy fr.]

I didn't know her well. What was she like?

[A week ago, he would have told her she was lucky and now she could move her metaphorical piano into the room. But now his first thoughts are different.]

Do you think she was targeted?

[sacredpath]

Thoughtful. Surprisingly resourceful. Didn't want anyone to know all that much about her.

[which is a good trait, in a way.]

I think whoever killed her was likely not in their right mind. Like Hawke, last week.

[peripheries]

I see. Not someone who should have died like that.

And so that begs the question: is their victim also a victim of chance or are they choosing specific targets?

[sacredpath]

[that is a good question.]

I don't think we have enough information to know. It seemed that Jing Yuan chose Charlie out of a belief that she wouldn't fight back, whereas Hawke chose Adolphe out of a belief that he would be a decent match. Maybe it has something to do with their personalities, or how they're affected. Jing Yuan was apathetic and lazy, whereas Hawke seemed to have been suffering from overconfidence.

[or more specifically, if the theories are right, sloth versus pride.]

[peripheries]

Isn't that part of being a child?

[You're not supposed to say that outloud!]

Besides even if you weren't the person you hoped you were, you can still change. Don't let fate become your cage.

week 3; monday

[sacredpath]

[i'm throwing us right into it. a door opens and they're deposited in the funhouse mirror area.

The funhouse mirrors take you down a path that seems to grow darker as you walk. What is reflected in the mirrors is a hazy landscape, all in grays, with swirling thick darkness that looks like smoke all around. Everything in this land is dead, everything. The ground is cracked and patched. No plants grow here, except for the odd glowing foliage of the underdark, which is adapted to darkness. There are no living animals, but there are beings in the dark. Undead corpses of animals with glowing eyes animated by some evil power, dark shadow shapes, even the corpses of people from time to time, ones who wandered in here and fell.

Other mirrors show flickers of the story of this land. A century ago, this was a thriving and lush landscape ruled over from the nearby castle, Moonrise Towers. There was a market town and many people who lived in the rural areas. But a curse was placed on this land by the goddess Shar. Everyone who once lived here either died or fled, because no life can thrive in the shadows. The shadow curse eats away at anyone who travels through it before they join the armies of undead.

Shadowheart is traveling through this land with her companions, Gale, Karlach, and Astarion. They’re using lanterns to keep the shadows at bay, but in the darker places, even that doesn’t work. But Shadowheart seems less affected by the others.

“The shadow curse… it doesn’t seem to affect me like it does others. Not as badly, at least.” Shadowheart’s voice sounds pleased. “Do you know what this means? Lady Shar is protecting me, while others are left to face her wrath.” She’s touched by this, like this is an unexpected blessing, a protection she didn’t think she’d be granted, but is now taking as proof of something she hadn’t thought she’d ever see proof of. “...She loves me. She must do.”

She notices the others slightly unimpressed, and adds - “Don’t give me that look. It’s a good thing I’m resistant to the shadows. I can help all of you.” And then more to herself - “Lady Shar wouldn’t bless me like this for no reason. There must be something she wants of me.”

The journey leads you deeper into these cursed lands. Despite Shadowheart’s claim of receiving a blessing, this is an awful place, and even she seems to be feeling it. Eventually, they come to a road, and find a destroyed caravan, bodies strewn all over the place. Men, women, children, all horned and colorful people, tieflings, lying murdered in the road, attacked. Though a few were armed, and though one or two of the bandits who killed them lie dead as well, most were refugees, not warriors.

(Memories on the mirrors on the other side of the wall. A party, in a serene grove, at night. A celebration in honor of Shadowheart and her friends. Tieflings drinking, dancing, toasting to them for helping save them and find a safe path to Baldur’s Gate. Many of the dead were among those remembered from the party, though some notable faces are missing.)

The sight is horrible, but the next turn through the mirrors leads to something else. An inn, easily visible through the darkness, as it is shrouded in an enormous bubble of light, blinding and looking like the surface of the moon. Inside the spell of protection, life can thrive and the shadows are banished. And Shadowheart and her friends find most of the remaining survivors of the tiefling caravan there, having been given shelter by the inn’s owner, a cleric named Isobel.

The reunion with the survivors is mixed. It’s a happy thing, that they survived and found shelter, but there’s no way to travel ahead, many of their party were killed, and many more are missing. Some of the children beg them to go find one of their friends who is being held captive; others as after missing loved ones and family members, but there’s no way to guarantee they can be saved or are even still alive.

Shadowheart goes upstairs with the others and meets Isobel. The conversation is brief, and tense, but perhaps there’s more there, if you linger and peer more deeply into the mirrors.

Isobel is at work renewing the ritual that protects this inn. It’s a beautiful thing, like summoning moonlight in her hands and letting it spread out across the area. She turns, and takes the party in.

“I didn’t realize I had an audience.” Her gaze falls on Shadowheart. “And a Sharran one, at that. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re willing to help us. Your kind aren’t known for their decency, particularly when a Sharran curse is our greatest obstacle.” She sighs. “But if you are who I think you are, I’d be a fool to reject your help.”

“I won’t be spoken to like that by a Selǔnite,” Shadowheart snaps back at her.

In an adjacent mirror, the shadow of Moonrise Towers, the enemy occupying it. An obstacle that Shadowheart and her friends must face, and an enemy of Isobel and all of the people taking refuge in this inn. For reasons unknown to you, the man controlling Moonrise Towers wants Isobel brought to him a prisoner, but if Isobel leaves this place, or falls, every last person inside the inn will fall to the shadow curse and die. She needs Shadowheart’s help, but Shadowheart has come here seeking help from her, as well.

“We’ve both got a bitter pill to swallow,” Isobel says, conciliatory. “When this is over, we can spit it back out. But for now, you’ll be needing a protection spell, won’t you?” the woman adds. “I see Shar has offered you protection already, but no harm from some extra. Even from a Selǔnite.”

Shadowheart agrees, and Isobel casts her spell, but as the magic washes over her, she clasps her hand in pain. The feeling of a spell using Selûne’s magic triggers pain from the old wound on her hand, reminding her that making peace this way is not accepted.

“Imagine being compelled to hide a shrine in a land that is utterly hostile to you and your goddess,” Shadowheart says, after they leave Isobel’s chambers. “Utter pig-headedness.”

“Hmm,” Gale says. “Tenacity might be a kinder word for it?”

“I’ll leave the kinder words to the softer hearts,” Shadowheart says.

Even so, without questioning it, Shadowheart and her friends defend the inn when forces from Moonrise Towers attack, keep them from taking Isobel or hurting her, so that Selûne’s protection can remain in place for a little longer.

There are more pathways, leading ahead, all lit by the glow of that protective moonlit spell. A story of a war between two goddesses, one that tends to use the lives of mortals as chess pieces, but more, too, some sort of deeper conflict within Shadowheart, one she doesn’t seem to understand herself. You can explore deeper, but there’s also a way out, back out of the hall of mirrors.

[peripheries]

[Kaworu finds himself drawn into the the memory like being drawn into the story of a book. He doesn't understand Shadowheart's world and what it means to follow Shar or to be a Selunite but he does understand being defined by your nature and how that nature conflicts with others. Shar vs. Selǔne, Adam vs. Lilith, mankind vs. the angels... all locked into conflict in their struggle to dominate the other.

And yet, Shadowheart defies her own sense of self to help others. For a moment he pauses, raising his arms as the glow of the spell illuminates his pale skin and wonders what it would be like to feel such a thing. Was it warm? Did it comfort the refugees? Did it rally the troops?

He continues down the hall in search of answers.]

[sacredpath]

[it does feel warm. surprisingly familiar.

memories follow down the hall. a young child, being taught, reciting her prayers. tongue tripping over the words, reaching for older, more familiar but no longer remembered ones. her progress observed, recorded in notebooks, with harsh punishment for any failure, pain in the wound marked on her hand any time she reached for a feeling or memory she wasn't supposed to have. taught to hate an enemy. the selûnites, hated, serving their selfish goddess who set the night aflame only to spite the dark. shar's chosen ones, her champions, must be strong so they can destroy her enemies, defend her.

but beneath that, somewhere, flashes of other memories. learning a different story, long ago. to love selûne, to trust the way she lit up the dark, to love the creatures and people who were dear to her. selûne would need believers, champions, to defend the peace, as twisted shar worshippers were always determined to destroy it.

neither story is all that different. both goddesses insist on winning this battle. both goddesses use their followers as pieces on the board. but the people who told her the story of selûne treated her with much more kindness, so the memory of that story, of that magic, is warmer.]

[peripheries]

[He watches the child intently, as though seeing her experience a similar upbringing could soothe his bitterness over his own. Except it doesn't. There's no comfort in seeing memories of seeing another being treated like this. Eventually, he turns away and returns to the gentle light as though it's a beacon for lost souls. Being born knowing this light changes nothing in the world. Perhaps it might even make one ignorant about its harsh truths. But it would change one's world entirely to be raised with kindness and with others.

He thinks about the words he spoke to the First Child, "You and I are made of the same matter and appear to be children of men, made to live on this planet. But what is different... are the people we have come across, and how we have lived our lives up until now. You and I are very similar, but we are not the same."

He keeps trying to follow the light. Wherever it might take him. It's better than the dark.]