a fine frenzy

it's fine to fake it 'till you make it

Safrin falls.

She has fallen for what has felt like eons; sometimes in the black waters of unconsciousness, sometimes speeding soundlessly past stars that she knew like the back of her hand. Only out here there are stars not of her own creation, and as she flies by them, they promise the ruin of the world she wanted so badly to protect.

But oh, how she’d tried for them all. Never mind her flippancy, her pettiness and vanity. This time she’d put everything she was on the line to keep them safe, fighting a battle that..that…

..but maybe a warning wouldn’t even make a difference. Maybe she could slip away here, burning out in isolation; alone, but free of judgment.

Then, a darkness more vast than even Safrin could comprehend, swallowed her whole.

///

Both Deimos and Ronin will awake with the sort of start that snaps them from slumber while keeping their bodies still in their beds. Illuminating the darkness of their bedchambers is the soft glow of the bracelets given to them by Safrin—now completely filled—and the star-bright glow of Artemide, perched soundlessly on the foot of their respective beds.

'till you do. 'till it's true.

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

A pulse of trepidation whipped through him; not unlike so many times before. When one had experienced enough bloodshed, anguish, loss, and the intricacies of war, sometimes it was a given to awaken with the recoil of drums echoing within skulls and memories, the harsh heartbeat rattling through bones and ribs.

But this was different – kept him very still in the darkness – until suddenly the illumination was there, presiding and vicious, meaning more than so many other damning things. He wouldn’t be able to shield Evie from the light for very long, but even in the eerie, enigmatic glow, he could see the owl near. At least, in that, he could remain silent, gaze remaining on the bird while his Attuned bond reached out. What happened?

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

and on to the glory at my right hand

Ronin is asleep - and then he isn’t. Given the Taliesins’ respective travels through the years, he’s learned to fall into slumber almost anywhere, and this new (but old, and rickety) houseboat is no exception. Only as his eyes become accustomed to the darkness that isn’t, his blue eyes flick to the bracelet on his wrist and dread grows like a ball of ice in the pit of his stomach.

Sitting abruptly, blinking at the edge of the bed, he resists the urge to reach for Artemide as if the bird might be Safrin in disguise. Instead, swallowing hard, he rakes a hand back through his hair and finds his voice. ”Is she back?”

ronin

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

it's fine to fake it 'till you make it

Wings spread, Artemide stares expectantly at Deimos with eyes wide and brimming with fracturing stars. Through the house, the bird slips, able to somehow open doors and even windows so as best to lead the Sword out into the darkening night where not one but two moons now prominently shine overhead. There is a path through the Citadel made of twisting trees and rich soil that certainly does not belong in Halo. As the owl flies through beckoning for the warrior to follow, a starbright pulse of light blooms in a clearing at the end of the path.

//

Perched expectantly on the edge of Ronin ‘s bed, the owl gives no response other than to star with cosmically dark eyes made infinite by the fractured stars within. On silent wings Artemide exits the houseboat, somehow able to evade the notice of husbands or companions alike, and though the ocean encircles The Northaven, there is a pathway of twisted silver-dark trees around a path of rich brown for the Supernova to walk upon. As Artemide flies down the path, a ball of starlight pulses near the end, illuminating faintly a clearing.

//

Silvery grasses billow beneath the touch of a frigid wind as the light in the clearing has dimmed to nearly nothing. Above two moons shine brightly, though one seems to scream its light rather than to glow with it. In a puddle of shadow as thick as mud, lays the unmoving body of Safrin. Devoid of clothing as well as feature, she is little more than pale light stretched over a frame that looks almost too thin to hold a soul much less the power of a goddess.

'till you do. 'till it's true.

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

There was no answer save for movement and motion, and the apprehension clawed its way through his bones as he followed. The world slipped between apertures and evenings, twilight casting two moons – and that didn’t set him at ease either. A hundred inquiries laced and lanced their way through his mind, but he gave them all to silence instead, uncertain if he’d like any of the answers.

He marched into clearings and pulses of lights, long strides sweeping, senses striving to take in everything around him and failing to do so after everything seemed to dim, fade, fall. His Attuned features shifted to tiger eyes, striving to catch anything else in the scene, what he was supposed to be finding, searching for –

And then naught but pale light, but the features noticeable, clear. He pressed closer, eyes widening, uncertain whether he should reach out, how this had happened, or what had occurred. It could be a ruse, because in all his days he’d never imagined, believed, the goddess could be in such a state. In between all the muddled motions, he crouched near the shadow, voice a distinct whispering rumble. “Safrin?”

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

and on to the glory at my right hand

This isn’t the first time Ronin has been visited, dreamlike, in the middle of the night, and he slips from the covers without a moment’s hesitation. Following Artemide out into the darkness, it’s with only a moment of surprise that he takes in the lack of churning waves around him, before he proceeds on sure feet down the pathway. Illuminated in silver, the Nova has only a few breaths to appreciate and internally question their whereabouts, before up ahead, he spots a familiar figure… and a shadow crouching over her.

Now, given the circumstances and the Nova’s (current) ignorance to Deimos’s presence, he hopes his friend will forgive him for his next few actions.

It’s with leathery wings spread wide and pupils blown into something feral and draconic that Ronin lands, feet planted either side of Safrin’s prone form as if she’s a treasure to be protected. Baring teeth that only remain blunt by a force of will, the sight of Deimos, at least, is enough to shock the Nova away from immediate violence, and he pulls in a shivery breath and lets his wings droop slightly.

”Sorry,” he whispers in the thick darkness, gaze dropping to their goddess. ”Gods, it’s really you…”

ronin

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

it's fine to fake it 'till you make it

Nearby, Artemide’s wings spread, casting a light that feels impossibly shallow and thin as it spreads across Safrin’s form. Where once she was splendor and grace made into flesh, now she appears like some sun-faded imprint of herself. Her fingernails are broken, her palms deeply burned. Though she wears no clothes and has only vague features, there is something distinctly broken and hollow about her. This is no cocoon within which the goddess is growing her strength; this is a husk from which all life has already been sucked.

Fanning their wings, Artemide hoots. It’s a low sound of the sort that both men will feel like a dull itch in their bones. On silent wings the owl descends as if to land upon Safrin, but just as talons ought to have met flesh, instead the creature melds into the goddess, vanishing in a puff of moondust.

At the same moment, breath caught in Safrin’s lungs as form and feature returned to her, albeit weakly. Gasping, and sounding all the more breathless for it, Safrin opens her eyes, for a moment seeing nothing save for the cosmic horrors who had chased her here.

'till you do. 'till it's true.

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Were Deimos not pragmatic in most situations, especially those mostly chaotic, he might’ve had a different reaction to Ronin’s sudden appearance and scathing, seething ministrations. Instead, his eyes narrowed and he remained in his crouch, neither emboldened nor audacious, ever vigilant as his mouth moved into a slight frown. He shook his head at the apologies, understanding them for what they were worth, and why the actions had occurred, moving to more mystical measures and motions at the present.

Besides, he’d never known Safrin as a being to be protected. She’d always been something more – omniscient and powerful, potent and enigmatic.

The owl moved as a beacon of light and then seemingly the goddess herself, the sounds and sibilances dragged across marrow, to a point where understanding drew away and he was left with more inquiries he wouldn’t voice. The sound of the deity’s sudden and weakened gasps, opened eyes, and then naught more, made his own gaze flicker back to Ronin, and then return to Safrin, all moondust and fragments. He caught himself before another question barbed across his tongue, and instead, chose to tilt his head, otherwise still and there. “What do you need?”

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

and on to the glory at my right hand

Everything seems to happen too slowly and too quickly at once, and Ronin barely has the sense to step back and crouch on Safrin’s other side before Artemide is melting into her flesh, before she’s gasping weakly into the dark. What happened, he wants to add, or Is there anything we can do?, the Nova biting back the words lest he accidentally flood his goddess with too many questions.

Swallowing hard and glancing up towards Deimos, Ronin resists the urge to reach out and touch Safrin, worried that he might harm her by doing so. But then again, with the way Artemide had managed to breathe life into the goddess, perhaps there is something he can do. ”Take from me as well, if you need,” he whispers; she’d breathed life and starlight into him once upon a time, after all.

”Do you think there’s a way we could reach Vi?” This is whispered to the Sword, because gods if this isn’t beyond either of their power to fix.

ronin

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

it's fine to fake it 'till you make it

Unfocused, Safrin’s eyes peer into the darkness. Her lips part around the shape of a scream, but no sound emerges. Instead she reaches out for Ronin as he makes his offer. As her fingertips brush against him, the Nova’s eyes fill with bleak starlight as the goddess manages to superimpose herself over him while simultaneously remaining broken on the ground.

“They’re coming “ Ronin and Safrin say at once, their voice a hauntingly compressed sound. For all of his strength, the demigod will feel his energy waning with every second that Safrin remains within him. Fallen star that she is, death lurks nearby if the goddess is not careful. “I couldn’t stop them…too strong…” She whispers, turning Ronin’s blue eyes toward Deimos. “I don’t know how to stop it.”

Ronin will feel his life fading away as Safrin brightens in his bones. Painlessly the world will simply begin to grow dark as if he’s being enveloped by the cosmos.

'till you do. 'till it's true.

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Deimos could only widen his eyes as moments clambered and clustered together in broken barbs; Ronin offering, Safrin accepting, a melded fold of inquiries that left the Sword momentarily speechless. His mind strived to keep up with the rising tide, for no, he had no notion of contacting Vi, and could only shake his head. “Noah might,” was the only logical turn he could concoct, before more notions passed and he was staring at both starry goddess and her demigod simultaneously.

The trepidation curled tighter in his chest the more the duo spoke, and the inquiries lanced right through all the other calamities and contortions, machinations and calculations stirring and with nowhere to go. “Who is they? Coming from where?” Unaware of Ronin’s predicament, he swallowed down traces of dread, pondering how on earth they’d be able to cease whatever was coming if a deity could not.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

Noah isn’t here right now, is what Ronin wants to say, so do you think you could give it a go? Alas, there’s very little he can do with the sudden force of his goddess swamping his soul and his senses, the demigod reduced to a celestial puppet as Safrin speaks through his lips and sees through his eyes. Cognizant of the words but unable to do much more than watch the world start to fade from his peripheral vision, the Nova tries to form speech of his own.

[say]”I can’t,”[/say] he almost chokes out, and the primal part of himself that recognises death when it sees it coming tries to tear itself from Safrin’s grip. Not that it’s remotely plausible.

it's fine to fake it 'till you make it

The longevity of a life when weighed with its usefulness is a tricky calculation at the best of times. Later, one might wonder if there would have been more utility in Ronin’s death, that Deimos might have carried more insightful information back with him had Safrin pushed forward and used him as all demigods are inevitably used. Alas, the Nova had gone to great lengths to imbue himself upon the goddess he loved so dearly, that the decision about whether to sacrifice her star to save the world was an easy one.

Withdrawing from Ronin with a warning about what was coming no more than a ghostly echo on his lips, Safrin slipped back into her own body, leaving Ronin to crumple to the ground nearly as helpless as she was.

Choices such as these were of the sort that had shaped Caido over the centuries. The choice of Caido to turn away from the world, the choice of Dygra to slumber as Rae made a playground of creation itself. The choice of Mort and Vi to love one another so deeply that life and death became inexorably linked.

Thus it came to be that the only warning Deimos would be able to carry back with him was that they were coming .


~FIN

'till you do. 'till it's true.