2018-03-05: Truth and Fantasy
- Cutscene: Truth and Fantasy
- Cast: Riesenlied
- Where: Riesenlied's mind
- Date: 5th March 2018
- Summary: Nasrin reaches out for Riesenlied once more, after the events at the Tower of Life...
... ... hey ... ...
... hey ...
Hey!
Wake up!
Riesenlied's eyes flutter open, a sudden gasp elicited from her lips. She finds herself suspended in the air, overlooking the veil of a glimmering light. The light of the Elw -- the light of the transporter that engulfed them all.
She blinks a few times, wincing as she struggles to move.
... you're hurt. Don't try to move it.
You'll just strain yourself.
There is a deep look of confusion as a small figure floats in front of her. A familiar, rotting figure, hair streaked with blood and stricken in frost.
... how do you feel now?
Riesenlied quietly nods... and her mouth moves -- but no words come out. Nasrin puts her finger to her lips, shaking her head.
Odoryuk showed you the way to the door.
You should be able to piece the rest together yourself... right?
The two of them drift down. A coalescing image appears before them, a tundra overlooking a beautiful aurora. In the far distance, the snow-capped mountains of the Arctican range.
How this all began...
A blizzard roars, shards of ice and snow thrown by the gale force of the Arctican easterlies. A single figure limps through, blanketed in a thick pile of frost. Her hair is stiff and white, and she has the tattered remains of a Photosphere neonate suit.
What you forgot...
A cold and damp cavern, lit with only a single gourd lamp with a fragile, flickering candle flame. The constant drip of water breaks the silence. A sleeping roll is laid out on the ground. Several battered crates of dried herbs and supplies sit on the side.
What you've believed is real all this time...
The athame. Red-lined from where it'd fallen, a streak of blood creasing the floor of the yurt.
The fantasy you've internalised for yourself.
Her vivid smile, as she brushes a lock of her chestnut brown hair aside. "I want to... seek a new world. A world where everyone can flourish. Not just our tribe... but people-- people all around the tundra. Maybe, maybe even beyond the ocean."
She turns towards her.
"I--I don't know why I'm telling you this. The elder says it's silly. D-do you think that's a foolish idea?"
And the truth you must separate from it.
The Tainted stares towards Nasrin. No longer was she garbed in the capelet and gown of the Fereshte, but once more, draped in the shredded, twisted remains of the neonate suit. A tattoo-like mark at her clavicle identifies a bar code and experiment number...
I clung to those words so hard...
I didn't have any words to live by...
The Tainted clutches at her chest, as she buckles gently and whimpers.
I just wanted you to... live on...
Some way... any way... inside of me...
The Hyadean in the rags drops to her knees. Her throat is dry. Her eyes are wet. Her mind is burning...
Seek... the new world...
Seek... the... new... world...
Her thoughts are blurring. Something is shaking her.
Mama... mama...
Mama, wake up!