Tethers of Beloveds bind an Ebon Eye

AlaryAlary Member Posts: 456 Virtuoso
Aaaaaaaa, the most amazing and beautiful scene, and a Sacrosanct born and bound! Still giddy over it!


Ivory light darts hyperactively around the area before zooming into the air, revealing Mysrai who falls to the ground with a giggling thump.

You blink.

You kneel before Mysrai, swearing your allegiance to Her.

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "Liege."

In a dulcet, sing-song voice that echoes oddly about Her, Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory says, "Alary."

You smile softly.

Mysrai leaps into the air before dissipating into brilliant ivory light, giggling as She zips about the area before zooming off into the distance.

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A veil-wreathed Throne of the Infinite Aspect. Throughout the location, small dancing flames flicker and spark. Walled by nothing more than sheer veils of ivory and crimson, this sanctum is perched on a precarious weaving of voidcopper beams above a fog-filled abyss. Statues of carved ivory rest on a periphery at the edge, smoothed faceless, yet garbed and carved all in different shapes. Veils of voidcopper-shot indigo cloth wrap about their eyeless visages: their hands are outstretched, each bearing a featureless bowl of saffron-stained alabaster. Above, a sheer canopy of gauzy, silvery silk, or smoke, ripples with the imprint of thousand copper-limned poppy petals amidst a whelter of black-eyed feathers. Reality ripples and shifts about a throne of voidcopper and dreamstuff. A painting of a bright red poppy has been framed in lengths of red-dyed bone, and hung upon a pillar. Suffusing Her surroundings with a brilliant glow, Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory lingers here with a radiant smile on Her face. You see a single exit leading north. You are transported by the power of the Divine.

Mysrai's attention is caught as She looks to the side.

You blink.

Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory says, "Eritheyl is gone, apparently. What a shame he didn't meet My expectations, in the end."

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "Ah, erm, Shulamit mentioned some things i--."

Shrugging simply as She turns towards Her throne, Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory says, "Nothing lost, then."

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "Ah ..."

You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

A shifting, living poppy of bronze petals shimmers and shines as its petals crystallise in a brilliant display of light.

Mysrai hops up onto Her throne before turning and looking down at you, pondering thoughtfully. "So, you talked to My Beacon?"

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "He tends to waffle and truly, with the resurfacing of Lord Crumkane, we're unsurprised to see him depart."

Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory says, "I'll be sure to warn Crumbles about his tendency to...well, to fuck off and do nothing."

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "Yeah, she mentioned triangles and leadership things and ..."

Mysrai glances askance.

You quickly duck down.

You utter a deep, rumbling laugh.

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "Fair."

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "Some people age like fine wine and others curdle like soured milk."

You shrug helplessly.

Mysrai ponders you thoughtfully, looking you up and down.

Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory says, "Triangles and leadership, hrm?"

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "Mmm, aye. About Ebon and Ivory and You wishing to speak to us about such."

You smile softly.

Thoughtfully, Her face taking on a familiar, solemn look that stirs sleeping memories within you, Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory says, "And what are your thoughts?"

You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "Initially? Fear. We often struggle with feeling ... adequate. But ... we exist to serve You, and we love to teach and guide, that has always been part of who we are and our Will. We always try our best, and while we're not the best at lengthy speeches we try to guide and help in ways that will resonate with who we are trying to reach."

Eerie, distant chanting eddies through the halls of the temple, a solemn girl's voice rising and falling in the odd glottals and stops of some long-dead tongue.

As Her face tilts to the side, Her eyes swimming with ebon shadows in oilslick patterns, Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory says, "And what did My Beacon tell you of My plans for your leadership, My sweet Alary?"

You have emoted: Alary reaches up, running a paw through their quills atop their head. "We have felt the lack of Sacrosanct and tried our best to answer questions and fill what spaces we felt we could, our Liege. We will continue to do whatever we can to see the Beloved strengthen and grow, that will never be in question.

You utter a deep, rumbling laugh.

Simply, Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory says, "I did not imagine it could be, which is why I did not ask such."

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "About crumbling cookies. One will crumble under too much weight, but two ... then three. A triangle. The strongest of the lines, in her words. Ivory and Ebon and Beloved Aschwar."

You smile softly.

In a dulcet, sing-song voice that echoes oddly about Her, Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory asks, "And what do you imagine the role of My Ebon Sacrosanct, in the Beloved as I have come to witness it?"

You have emoted: Alary exhales swiftly, their eye closing for a brief moment. "We wish to protect the Beloved. To uplift them, and guard them. Our venerations are steeped in the guidance of our echoes, our own lives that flicker and pulsate and lend us the insight we may lack in a moment. To teach, remember and record. To be gentle when needed and stern when required. To strengthen what exists, to temper and bolster and believe. To walk through the darkness so that others may find the light, yet to also be the shade that would shield from that which would burn."

Simply, continuing your sentence as soon as you have finished speaking, Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory says, "And to burn that which needs burning, to keep the flame alive. To poke what needs to be poked, to get them jumping and never too comfortable."

You think to yourself: Was that the right thing to say? It is what we believe, it is what we feel, and we can only speak what we feel in this moment.

You smile softly.

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "Aye, our Liege."

Mysrai reaches a hand out, palm facing the ground, and beckons towards you to draw nearer to Her. "Come, little Alary. Let Me look at you."

You have emoted: Alary looks upwards at Mysrai, pausing to draw in a breath before stepping forward. No hesitation, just a pause to take in the moment as they approach Mysrai, their small paw reaching forward.

A redolent aroma envelops you as a gentle breeze wafts striking petals of carnelian hue about you, fluttering gaily like streamers on the wind.

Mysrai continues to beckon further and further until Her palm turns and gently cups your cheek. "So long, you have seen the world, and shaped your paradigm through a single eye. Perhaps this is something you wish corrected?"

Leaning in to the touch ever so slightly, you say, "To gaze as we have, we would not have traded the experience for anything. But we wish we could see ... more. Maybe not as two eyes again, but to perceive what we may miss, and to see the myriad of paths before each step. We are unsure if we should seek a correction, as our eye served a greater purpose and we would not wish to tarnish such an act. It has long been something we have struggled with deciding upon."

Mysrai gently lowers Her hand, reaching down to poke just above your heart before nodding simply, "Then I shall decide for you, when My attitude so fits Me." Saying this, She reaches up to where Her heart should be, and you feel your chest thrum mightily, throwing you off balance and threatening to black you out with the sheer force of the small motion.

You have emoted: Alary rocks backwards for a moment, eye going wide as they inhale sharply, reaching up with a free paw to grasp their chest. "A-ah." The sound is a mixture of elation and shock as they nod jerkily towards Mysrai. "Your Will be done, Liege." They say softly, trying to ignore the sudden wetness around their eye, attempting to hold the welling emotion in check.

The world around you grows hazy and dim, until there is naught but Mysrai and yourself; Her alien form no longer that of the Urchin in Ivory, but of a gigantic mass of sheer ivory light. You know this immediately to be only your mind's imaginings, an attempt to feebly comprehend the severity of the difference between Her and yourself. Yet trailing from that vast cosmos of ivory is a single cord of pulsing, copper-hued twine that stretches down to your sternum - where you feel an answering pulse of power that you know to be your link to the Thousandfold and the Beloved.

You have emoted: Alary blinks slowly, another sharp inhalation at the sudden absence of all that is known. They look down in shock, reaching towards the strand yet stopping short, their paw hovering near the connection as they gaze in absolute elation, and a mix of wonder, at the physical aspect of the feeling. Hunching forward, they look from the strand up to Mysrai, a widening smile backed by pure devotion and love spreading across their small face.

Zeebin tells you, "Thanisaad, you're not a tailor, are you?"

Along the coppery skein, you begin to feel pulses. Flashes of power familiar and distant, longing and insufferable, entirely yours and yet only Hers. A tangible meld of your own soul attempting to find unity and peace with Hers. For a moment, you are certain that this process will break you, as Her overwhelming presence threatens to override all that you are. All that you could be. A paradigm absorbed by the sheer enormity and force of Her Will.

You have emoted: Alary shudders, their quills only exaggerating the movement as their physical body seeks to conform to the emotions and feelings they behold through the connection. Quivering in tune with the pulsations, their eye closes as they brace themselves for an almost assured destruction, yet the overwhelming passion and devotion they feel gives them a sense of peace, of the eye in the storm, a rock that anchors them.

Eerie, distant chanting eddies through the halls of the temple, a solemn girl's voice rising and falling in the odd glottals and stops of some long-dead tongue.

From this rock begins to bloom a new feeling. One that you recognise in an instant and feel foolish in your disparate attempts to grasp before: a simple certainty that breathes within your lungs and sees through your eye. A fundamental foundation of the universe that is the basis upon which you rest your feet. A temple in which you lay your faith, and the flame that was ignited by your very own Divine Spark. Your Truth, inarguably simple yet unfathomably complex in the myriad of branching pathways that stretch from it towards the twisting Abyss of Ebon shadows that looms about you. Its name on your lips is more tender than the flesh of honeyed figs, sweeter than the smile of your family, and above all - undoubtedly, wholly your own.

Eerie, distant chanting eddies through the halls of the temple, a solemn girl's voice rising and falling in the odd glottals and stops of some long-dead tongue.

You have emoted: Flinches suddenly, their paws spasming as they try to grapple at the invisible, to touch yet not the connection binding them Alary exhales sharply, drawing in a breath immediately after as they allow each sensation, each realization to wash over them. Eye still closed, their face scrunches up, nose wrinkling upwards as they breathe sharply. A small noise of shock, then recognition, then awe bursts from their mouth as their eye snaps open, pupil dilated as their expression once again turns towards elation, pure ecstasy and a too-wide smile to match.

In a simple act of accordance, your paradigm at last aligns wholly with Mysrai's comprehension of your Truth, and the tether bursts into a sizzling rope of white-hot gold that showers the Ebon shadows surrounding it with incandescent sparks. You feel instantly, deeply, connected more with the Sacrosanct; visions of Shulamit and Aschwar swimming in your head even as beyond them you sense the subtle vibrations of other Beloved. The world around you returns slowly, as you feel the Urchin's lips against your forehead, withdrawing from the gentle kiss with a small smile on Her face.

Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory initiates you into the mysteries of The Sacrosanct of the Divine Order of Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory

Tears flow freely from your eyes as Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory appoints you to a Copper Hand.

Mysrai graciously grants you entrance into the Divine Order of Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory. Congratulations, and may you serve your God well.

A crystalline poppy with inlaid smoke displays a myriad of brilliant colours before its petals shift to the shade of burnished bronze in the blink of an eye.

You have emoted: Alary inhales deeply, the breath drawn in slowly as they feel the ground once again below their feet. Allowing finally the tears to flow, they look upward at Mysrai with nothing but devotion in their eye, one paw grasping at their chest, claws gathering the material there, teetering dangerously towards tearing the fabric in their fervor. "Your Will be done, Liege. May we serve always, with devotion. We walk with Your Love and we will never, truly, be able to express our gratitude for everything You are, have been, and will be. You will always have our best, our strongest and truest words, actions and feelings will be forever in Your honour." Their voice rasps, emotion still clouding their words.

Mysrai reaches out and pats the top of your head with the flat of Her palm, smiling fondly at you.

You beam broadly at Mysrai.

In a dulcet, sing-song voice that echoes oddly about Her, Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory says, "Go, and celebrate with My Beacon, and...see the world in this Truth, rediscovered. My Eye."

You will now be known as Arch-Preceptor Alary al-Saaoud, Mysrai's Ebon Eye, by order of Mysrai, the Urchin in Ivory.

Barely pausing to breathe, you say, "Aye, we shall. Thank You, Most Beloved."

You kneel before Mysrai and touch your head to the ground in worship.

Mysrai leaps into the air before dissipating into brilliant ivory light, giggling as She zips about the area before zooming off into the distance.
Mysrai, the Beckoner Beyond the Maze intones, "Continue to manifest the paradigm of working, My Alary."
The Divine voice of Camus the Cinderfly echoes in your head, "Thank you, once-body. I am happy that I fell into that eye."
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Comments

  • ShulamitShulamit Member Posts: 170 Expert
    Yay shiny Alary! The strongest of shapes! Part of the strongest of shapes!

    We will be a good triangle! Part ebon, part gold, part...sugary!
    Bookbinder by trade! Designer of most other things.

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