HEARTGAME DRESS REHEARSAL

[finalbows]

thank u rah u hero

tracking sheet
 

[ ..somewhere in the pasture, Angel Devil falls down.
His clothes have twisted away into bone-white rags, leaving a body covered over with only thick swathes of red fur, and downy feathers. His long tail is curled into a tense arc, banded fur standing on end.

The air wavers like he’s a heat mirage, not a man. He’s boiling away with absolutely stupid amounts of arcane power… and, most frighteningly, he does not seem in control of the fact that it is there and being brought to bear. It’s impossible to get any closer to him.


When he speaks, it’s quite timid. ]

Ah,
I thought… I had a little more time.

[ (and in a blinding flash of light, there is the sound of something breaking.) ]

~KRRSHHK~

[any observers will see, strangely see-through and superimposed on the scene, some kind of vast tree, illusionary roots twisting over and around to frame a door.  the door itself is wrought of opaque stained glass in blacks and whites and greys; a stylized rendition of Angie in that strangely ragged, feathered form, curled in on himself, eyes closed.  Angie himself is nowhere to be seen. ]

instead, a shadow . . . steps into view from behind the door.  for a moment it looks like nothing so much as a second genome – then it turns, gaining features and definition with the movement.  The monkey tail separates into three plumes; a ponytail unfurls into wings that lift up from the sides of the head.  

Teleute(?) is here, dressed in her customary black, but there is colour in her skin, and her hair and eyes are blue.  she’s frowning.]

. . . well.  This is the least I can do before I go, in exchange for the safe harbor.

[she lifts her head, nodding to any observers, and gestures at the door.]

You’ll want to head in there now if you don’t wish to lose your flockmate, I think.  Even the false-death of this place won’t be much help to him, if his soul is left to finish pulling itself apart.

My sisters and I can maintain the way into and out of it for you, but we were not made to knit such wounds by ourselves.  Have a care.

Comments

[wants_the_phd]

[Eventually, she take the fact that the scenery hasn't disintegrated around her as a sign that she still has work to do.]

[so she sighs,
and she wipes her eyes,
and she retraces her steps back from whence she came.]

[We are going all the way back to where we first saw Ginryu, to see if he's still there.]

[finalbows]

[ the dragon remains, though the landscape hasn't gone unscathed. with the departure of that fragment of angie that had set himself as its master, it's grown even more restless in its mysterious search, tearing at the dirt, sand, and brambles. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[She approaches him from upwind to give him plenty of warning of her presence.]

[Staying a respectful distance away, she dips her head in polite supplication.]

Greetings.

May I assist you?

[finalbows]

[ the nova dragon tosses its head, agitated, scratches again at the dry earth--

stops. scents deep of the air, then its gaze grows fixed, right on her. or her bag. hard to tell.


takes slow, prowling steps. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Oh.]

[Making no sudden moves, she smoothly removes the bag and sets it on the ground at her feet. She opens it wide to make the contents accessible, and then walks backward away from it.]

[finalbows]

[ the point of its long horn is still so, so precariously close to her, as it levels its head near the bag...

then rears back, and shakes its head like trying to rid itself of a fly.
no.
that's still not it. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Man. If only she had any idea what this dragon represented metaphorically, maybe she'd have a better shot at getting it what it needed.]

[She starts smelling the air, herself, taking deep breaths and really concentrating to see if she can pick out notes of mist or rot or... SOMETHING. She's also going to (again, keeping a respectful distance) go investigate some of the areas that have already been torn up, to see if she can get a clue.]

1/2

[finalbows]

[ okay. Let's think.

Eighteen masks.

She's handled (in one way or another) his Guilt, satiated his Aesthetics, coaxed his Servitude into Rebellion, offered him back his Tenderness, woke his Perseverance, turned him away from his submission to Fate to accept Kinship, sundered the King that ruled him.....

...in herself, she's held fast to his Cruelty, his Desire, his affectations as a Rose. What's left?

Resignation?
Eternity?
An End?

...could you call those all the same thing?

And, one might suppose, there are those blank black and white masks. ]

2/2

[finalbows]

[ the God of destruction offers another choice. ]

~ which mask to wear? ~

MASK OF THE STRANGER
"There's no way of knowing. He never knew the creature well enough, himself."

MASK OF THE END
"The meaning of this dragon is grief for another."

[wants_the_phd]

[well, OBVIOUSLY there's not going to be some random metaphor that's impossible for even this heart's owner to understand. So she gives the mental equivalent of a begrudging sigh as she slips the Mask of the End on her face, even though she really doesn't want to.]

[She's doing this for you, Angie.]

[finalbows]

[ she puts on the mask, and--



in the absolute mess of all this torn-up landscape, she suddenly can see the massive sea of shattered eggshells.

the dragon resumes digging around.


it's looking... it's trying desperately to find a single, unshattered egg. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Ah.]

[She walks carefully, trying to help the dragon look for something whole. Or, at very least, something that's only cracked instead of fully broken.]

[But how is this related to Angie? Why is this in his head? Is he the one that destroyed this nest? Or is he the dragon, looking for something that was taken from him?]

[She's looking at the ground, but speaking softly to the dragon, wherever it is at this point.]

What happened here?

[finalbows]

[ the wrecked nesting grounds remain, but the sky changes to an unearthly, swirling pink. the horizon dissolves. there is only this close space, the hunt for something still living, and...

"Révérence," red as blood and fury and death hanging in the air, chest rise-falling to the point of hyperventilating. ]

"You... You're.. Terra's child... just like me... Ha ha ha ha ha...

The last of your children are vanishing behind me, dragon! They're fighting valiantly to protect the last roar of Terra, before the teeth close for the final time to their throats...

Are you going to leave them to do it alone?"

[ he vanishes, like sand. his face was visible. a memory, not something to save. ]

[wants_the_phd]

That was when he tried to destroy everything?

He makes it sound like he wanted you to stop him...

Did you?

[finalbows]

[ the dragon stands in regal power, prepared for a battle.

four shades appear on the ground, armed and ready. they rush at the dragon to fight--

and phase through it, to nothing.

it wasn't angel devil it fought, that day.
one of those shades was a young genome, for certain.]

[wants_the_phd]

[She recognizes that genome, doesn't she]

...Why them? Were they trying to destroy Terra, too?

But why would they need to, if Garland was already dead by then...

[finalbows]

[ im so sorry az but this big ol dragon does not at all understand the why of the situation it was commanded into.


only that all of the eggs, forever, seem to be broken. it worked so hard. how could this happen? continues digging. ]

1/2

[wants_the_phd]

[....]

[wants_the_phd]

[In the comfort of a land of dreams and metaphor, she slips comfortably into her dragon shape without the drama of bursting out of her clothes about it. She joins the grieving parent in carefully nosing through the dirt in search of survivors. ...or Angie. Has he buried himself here in a fit of regret?]

[finalbows]

[ he would, wouldn't he. ]

[ ... ]

[ the two of them working together, in tandem... turn up something.
one, single, precious, cracked egg,
and a certain red pearl.

but--
...
well, the situation in that egg doesn't smell, seem good. but... that tiny, fragile hope of a thing...
it also doesn't smell dead yet. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[Well, that's what we have Life for, isn't it?]

[We are attempting to cast Life, at least.]

[finalbows]

[ as the spell sinks into the egg, it, and the pearl both glow--

...

for the egg, the glow goes down to a guttering, low dim.
the light in Function Ball stays brighter, steady.
the Nova dragon is already carefully making a crescent of itself, around the two. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[She casts a Cure on the egg for good measure, and then another.]

[She's eyeing that pearl, though. It's good that it's glowing, but she wants to find the body it belongs to.]

[finalbows]

[ that fragile glow grows, grows,

finally, it holds.

the glow built up in that pearl, too.
but while she was focused on the egg... it's changed into something else.

Gained MASK OF HOPE. ]

[wants_the_phd]

[She dips her head to the dragon, polite.]

May I have the function ball, please? I'd like to reunite it with its owner, so it can be made whole again, too.