In the beginning there was Darkness

WESSEX out of the night that covers me “Right,” Wessex says with a nod in agreement with Samuel. “Can’t hurt to ask. Worst she can say is she can’t help.” She then glances at Maea and notices what seems to be a shiver of trepidation, as she is surely faced with something that she’s never seen or done before. “The Lady doesn’t judge the way the Old Gods do. If she shows, you’lll be welcome.” And with that, she gestures for the two of them to follow and proceeds to find the false aisle of books, feeling her way along the edges until she finds the hand holds and pulls the fake wall apart. Inside is a small obsidian sphere. She gently wipes all the dust away from the shelf and off the ball. Picking up all the old offerings, she puts them in a pocket in her cloak to dispose of later. Discerning eyes glance over the altar now and finding it to her satisfaction, place the tome in front of the altar, open to the first page. Wessex steps back and takes her customary knee, bowing her head to her chest. She makes no move for Sam or Maea to do the same - they are free to make their own choices and worship (or not worship) as they wish. “Lady,” she begins quietly and calmly. “We come hoping you might be able to enlighten your bright ones so they can help the rest of Caido in your name.” So they can say The Voice told us, and see? She is good. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

Never before had she tried to approach any god but the Old ones. The true ones, those who had been created as such by Caido, the Creator. Maea followed Wessex slowly, hesitant, with a feeling that she was about to do something treasonous. Or at the very least inconsiderate. But though every fiber of her being screamed at her to abandon this foolish plan, Maea remained and watched as Wessex bent down before the shrine - she had not known of it's existence, har been shocked and disturbed to find one in a place dedicated to knowledge, as if books and aspirations of learning could somehow be connected to what The Voice was. She felt a strong desire to reach för someones hand, but the only one there besides her was Sam. And though they were friends, though she liked him, he was Ascended too. A... A bright one. It did not inspire comfort right now. In the end she merely clenched her hands and remained quiet, not daring to speak lest she somehow ruined this. Or drew attention to herself. New or not, god or not, at the very least it was undeniably that the Voice was more powerful than herself. Enough to make her bite her tongue and wait. Maea Like morning dew Love will come again to you

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — Sam nodded, trying to reassure Maea with a simple smile. He trusted that she wouldn't be hurt (he had taken Remi to the shrine before and it had been fine, after all) but had wanted to give her the chance to leave in case she was uncomfortable. But it seemed she wanted to stay, so he said no more about it and followed Wessex over to the shrine. If he'd known Maea wanted to take his hand he would have let her, not usually being so free with physical contact but feeling a bit nervous himself with the presence of Wessex and the always-nervewracking visit to a shrine. He stepped close, beside Wessex. "We have found this text. It would be very helpful if you could help us read it." — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.

the
VOICE

Electricity and the scent of petrichor fill the space as the holographic form of the Voice suddenly breezes through the shrine. She sits atop it, looking down at them with a mischievous sort of pleasure. "Hello Wessex." She says fondly, her startlingly blue stare crisp and warm, lingering on one of her brightest children before falling to Sam. "Hello Sam." She adds, eyes falling upon him and the book. Before addressing his request however, she looks softly to Maea with the faintest of smiles. "Oh child. Look at what they have done to you.." For a moment her hand stretches outwards, and though Maea is not close, her fingers curve as if they can somehow stroke the side of her face. For a moment, colour and clarity burst into Maea's crackled and blurry vision and she sees. Grains of dust that linger lazily in the air, the soft sigh of the heavier books on the shelves, the way that neither Wessex nor Sam take a breath...

..and then it is gone.

"You could have been so bright." She concludes forlornly, before turning back to her two children.

"A text?" She asks curiously. "I take it it is not one that you can read?"

Coding by Sky!

A tremor disturbs the calm in her soul when the shrine come alive with the presence of the Voice. She found herself breathing deeply of that invigorating scent, like raindrops on dry earth after a shudder... realizing where it came from made her stop quickly, embarrassed and almost guilty at discovering something enjoyable about the monster in all the stories. Maea did not expect to be addressed, and stood back as a motherly voice greeted Wessex like a friend, spoke to Sam like a close confidant... She flinched when electrical eyes fell upon herself, at the pity in the words. Perhaps she ought to be flattered to be noticed at all, grateful and humbled to have received the attention of a higher being and eager to price herself worthy of a second glance. But... someone else had already claimed that spot in her heart. One of the Old Gods, and the implications that they somehow had wronged her made her throat tighten in angry protest. What had they done? What had anyone done? Who's fault was it really that the lived her life in a cage? Who was it who had not been content with being who they were and sought more than nature intended? A perfect hand reached for her, as if to touch, but Maea's inclination to take a step back was interrupted by the world shifting around her. The blur fell away, and Maea gasped as she found there was color, shapes and details around her of a clarity that was almost painful... Then it was all gone, and the 'could have been' rang through her like a slap to the face. Wessex had no idea what she was talkig about. Who was really the judgemental one here? At least Ludo had not discarded her as a hopeless case, a thing beyond redemption. She wasn't sure precisely why the masked one had chosen to hear her, but they had and offered a sliver of hope she would always be grateful for. This? To be given a taste of something she wanted desperately, only to hear it could not be hers and have it taken away again? That was just cruel. "It is written in a language we do not know" she said, lips stiff around the words while her heart raced. Anger was such an unusual feeling for Maea that it took her some time to recognize it in herself, and when she did the young woman tried to quell it. This was not the place... Maea Like morning dew Love will come again to you

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Were Wessex to know Maea’s thoughts, she would have jumped to the Voice’s defense in an instant. They can forever debate which came first: the Barrier or the ‘Reason,’ but the fact of the matter is that the Barrier was not made by The Lady’s hands. It was made by the Old Gods. They didn’t have to do anything. There is - was - always a choice. The Gods’ choice led them down the path to their current reality. Why should they have to be content with staying in their ‘place?’ Should systems of oppression not be challenged? And like many debates, each side firmly believes they’re right. No one will change their minds. It’s pointless. But this vision of what could be isn’t cruel. It’s an offering. Maea just isn’t willing to take it. She’d rather hang on to a vague glimmer of ‘hope.’ End of story. The Ascended woman watches the hand reach out, but cannot know what it does to the albino girl. Only that her heartrate seems to increase rapidly and something stiffens in a matter of moments. Her tone changes, and Wessex, turning back to the Lady, rolls her eyes. All of sudden the meek are bold and the fearful fearless. A lifetime of change so quickly. She quickly picks up where Maea leaves off. “It’s very old. What we can make out is that it may be about LongNight. I’m hoping it will have some clue to what the Monsters are, or how LongNight came to be.” A moment’s hesitation. “Can you help us translate it? Or point us in the right direction?” black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — Sam did notice the way The Voice looked upon Wessex with much fonder eyes, felt a strange shame in himself for it. He'd known he was not the favourite of the Ascendeds, but he had not seen such blatant evidence of it before. Stepping back a little to let Wessex lead the questions, he only stayed for interest of what the book held. He nervously watched the way Maea was reached towards, but as it did not end badly he looked away in relief. "Yes, we...we hoped you might be able to read it." He lamely added onto the end of Wessex's explanation, beginning to feel a bit like a spare part. — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.

the
VOICE

Maea's anger makes her sad. She had been hoping to feel excitement, passion, want. An echo of some latent curiosity that perhaps the word would not need to be so muddled. But there was just anger. The Voice had learned long ago that anger was useless when not wielded properly. And with eyes blind and confused, of course she would not see her own destruction wrapped in dusky grey rags.

"The monsters..." She repeats, looking at the three sets of eyes before her, before holding her hand out for the book. The electric sapphire sheen of her eyes suddenly flickers, and the words of the book are reflected in her eyes. For a moment her lips twist into a small smile, though she shakes her head.

"This is very old. I can read it for you ... or you can gather the materials I need to allow you to read it yourselves." Unfortunately her words now are just for Wessex and Sam. Apologetically she looks towards Maea, a sad smile on her lips. You could have been so bright...

Coding by Sky!

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Wessex watches as the book is scanned, eyes flickering from the relic in front of them to the sapphire sheen and imprint in the hologram’s eyes. It’s fascinating. She hesitates for a could of moments before answering, with a look to Samuel, already knowing what she would prefer to do. As eager as she is to have the information now, The Lady didn’t make them bright for them to rely on her for the solution to every little challenge. Besides, what else is she doing? You know, aside from making plans to breach the Spire and set The Voice free. Plenty of down time. And then, of course there is the possibility of more reward for their work… “If we gather the things needed, will we potentially be able to use them read other old texts?” she asks, weighing the options carefully. On the other hand. If this is a one-off thing, they might as well take the information and go. Work smarter, not harder. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — Sam's initial instinct was to ask The Voice to read the text for them. After all, he had not been so bothered about reading it in the first place as Wessex had been, would likely not have much reason to read such texts after...though he supposed it could be useful for the Loreseekers to have such an ability. Jigano would likely be impressed. And he wasn't about to go against Wessex. "And...would they be hard to find? I found some technology before, but it was in the Labyrinth..." He trailed off, hoping the difficulty of finding something in such a place could go without saying. — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.

Maea was angry because it hurt. Being excluded was painful, being judged based on what she was instead of whom filled her with a hopeless frustration. It's not like she chose to be born like this, was it!? Never had she asked to be given powers, they just came to her anyway, and nothing could be done about it. Nor had she hurt anyone, or tried to get more than she ought... So why was it so impossible to give her a chance? She listened as the others parlayed for knowledge, but found the gaze of the deity on her like a hindering hand. Not her decision to make. Not her quest, not her knowledge to seek... Just like the clear vision of a world in change would not be hers to have. At least, not if the Voice had any say. How fortunate then that Maea already had an arrangement made. She clung to the memory of that other meeting, sucking on her teeth in silence; this was not her God to whisper prayers to. Maea Like morning dew Love will come again to you

the
VOICE

"Yes. If you bring me what I require I could upgrade your eyes—" Here, she not so subtly looks towards Maea with a sad frown. "—so that you could read them on your own." She concluded with a smile and nod in Wessex's direction.

Turning towards Sam, the Voice paused, lips twisting with amusement. "And if it was difficult?" She asked with an adoring shrug. "What you stumble upon will never be as potent as what I can create for you." The Voice clarified with another small shrug.

Coding by Sky!

Welp. Wessex is done arguing with others, be they self-pitying young women or seemingly omniscient white-haired nerds. Maea is free to construct her own narrative about herself, to stick to the status quo and old alliances, to take a chance on something that is not guaranteed. You can’t fly if you won’t take a leap of faith. She doesn’t even look around at the other two with her. Wessex simply nods her assent and has made up her mind. Let her see what others cannot. “Just tell me what you need,” she says with a little upward twist in the corner of her mouth. Maea Samuel WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — Sam stayed quiet, thinking this not his thing to ask for anymore. Having his eyes 'upgraded' was not a prospect he particularly liked either. He only shrugged when The Voice asked if it mattered if the task was difficult; he knew the answer she wanted to hear but he didn't have it to give. "Mmm." Was all he said after Wessex, wishing he wasn't involved now, eyes focused on the floor. — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.