2018-10-14: Because This World Is...
- Cutscene: 2018-10-14: Because This World Is...
- Cast: Seraph Lanval
- Where: Filgaia (Various)
- Date: October 14th, 2018
- Summary: Seraph Lanval has a lot on his mind, it turns out, no matter how he appears to mindlessly drift about the Blue Star. Everywhere he looks, everything he does, there's one thing that he cannot put aside as he grapples with the rest of his existence. One thing that haunts him... unless, he means to do something about it. Can he?
The chaos of the fires and screams that erupt around Adlehyde upon his sudden return do little to mask the change in the very air of the Blue Star, comparing it to home. People run, strange metal beasts stomp the earth flat. Structures crumble, and great powers clash between one another at magnitudes and ferocities only capable of causes that exceed any of them in years.
The air itself feels stale and unmoving even with all the activity trying to stir it, grass and trees thin and meek as the dust stirs and settles again over the passing of a great conflict that seems to leave no greater echo to the spiritual senses.
Because this world is dying.
---
The Fox Company as a whole partakes back to business as usual as it's going to in a world that most of them already have experience with. The far lessened presence and influence of Althena's Guard ensures there's no shortage of bars to visit, for the resulting drink after a hard day's work. Talise is always quick to extol the virtues of Old Man Ettlesby's brand of the stuff, especially the Heal Berry booze.
Lanval drinks as much of it as he can. He loves alcoholic beverages - that he converts it directly to power is but a mere bonus. The Blue Star has no shortage of beer and booze available, with no all-encompassing prohibition culturally breathing down their necks. The quantity is to his liking... but that cannot overcome the thinner flavor, the flatter texture, or the feeling that so much of it was just thrown together out of what could be found and fermented at the time out of desperation.
Because this world is dying.
---
A curious water spirit about a world and its people he hardly understands, Lanval lounges about a campsite near Adlehyde as Rosaline rests up after another day of hard work seeing to the needs of refugees of the survivors of Azado, she speaks of the angel her faith holds in highest regard underneath a God himself. It never seems to cross him that his very existence is a loophole to anything and everything taught to her.
Lanval inwardly wishes to see that Rosaline be able to hold her faith for the time Granas may yet appear before any of them, reflecting upon her fears and hopes in coming back to a further war-torn world where the hordes of metal creatures yet stand to rend the world asunder.
Because this world is dying.
---
Ida, the former Hellion turned a good friend in spite of the nearly irreversible wound she inflicted upon Lunar, shows himself and another Seraph in an imposing vessel of a dragon statue about the strange and wonderful faculties of a dwelling full of luxuries unimaginable. The water that seems to be carried from afar at will. The lightning that travels through walls. The great metal horse carriages without horses that run across wooden boards lined with steel.
All of which seem to be distracting noise to the very silence of the air. Mortals converge to and fro, doubting, lying, being conflicted, converging together in greater numbers within a space than he ever imagines possible... and with virtually no free-floating ambient Malevolence, a situation that should be refreshing and welcomed but is instead a worrying absence that speaks of an amputation of a limb rather than a curing of an illness.
Because this world is dying.
---
At the bottom of a flooded mine, Lanval rests upon glowing rock. The caverns shine to an irregular rhythm between sections of stone, as many about him find immediate interest in a humongous piece of armor that no one he knows could ever wear. He quietly mourns for a headless construct that is their savior from a raging river not even he could do much about.
The light isn't truly warm, or inviting, pretty only to the eye but cold and uninviting to every other sense. No life appears to be clinging to the crevices nor crooks of any of this glowing rock, seemingly only a reminder of a tremendous act of destruction with only these pulsing glows to speak of the event.
Because this world is dying.
---
It is a small mercy that he comes across two others of his kind who do not bear him any ill will. The Shadow Searph Solanine, and the Ice Seraph Ceimglace. Though they don't all walk together, it should be reassuring that he at least has some more fellow Seraphim in which to relate for those issues the mortals could never comprehend.
Even then, from what he knows, there is that core conceit of this very place that strikes him in ways he is not certain they themselves would understand. Did they once dedicate their existences to extending the Blessing, like himself? Even through Ceimglace's zest for celebratory song and dance for its own sake, and Solanine's rekindling sense of discovery, he does not know if he can voice what he truly feels and knows about the world they inhabit and have them grasp the depth of it - another sense of loneliness anew.
Because this world is dying.
---
Lanval optimistically holds onto the idea that they'll head to Saint Centour, as the mortals are very worried about them. From what he hears, Ione Paua protects them directly... this far away from the Blue Star, from all the cultural norms he knows, this roughly similar practice to his former station gives him a rare someone with similar life experiences he could chat the day away with! That they might do this keeps him happy, all to distract him from a ghastly reality.
The reality that it often seems the fish and other predatory beasts that leap upon the deck of the ship to attack, once in a while, would rather not be within the very water that gives them life and shelter.
Because this world is dying.
---
Lanval travels the depths of a labyrinth underneath the sands of the Badlands. He heads down the corridor of a side room in search of a large key, and finds a body of water whose very nature offends, sickens, and frightens him. The oozing, pulsating, reddish-purple mass, corrupted by a force he does not recognize but can intristically understand to be a terrible thing, churns forth further creatures fit only for its muck.
They aggress upon him not out of anger or spite, but a seeming hunger for his very essence. A desire he rebukes with all his might - leaving clear water in his wake that the bubbling blight consumes and twists as he leaves it behind.
Because this world is dying.
---
...
Lanval drifts along a tiny lake he made out of a dry basin out in the Ranchlands. A lake provided as an alternative to having to help clean the dishes, a Faustian bargain if there ever was one, just to provide a safe place for Sephilia to learn how to swim from the veteran sailor Layna. The water's the cleanest around for miles. He's seen a glimpse of the ocean just from taking the Ruby Empress to Saint Centour. He tells them it's the cleanest, freshest water about... and it is a truth he states with melancholy sincerity.
Because this world is dying.
One small misunderstanding in which he mistakes Sephilia's call for his attention as an alarm that she might have been drowning, he brushes off the misunderstanding as just that. As the two of them finish up swimming lessons and prepare to head on back, Lanval sits at the edge of this small lake and has himself another drink from his gourd to take the edge off.
Ravenous creatures appear not long after. They converge upon the watering hole that was not there the day before. Even creatures Lanval recognize as being the sort to try and predate upon one another do no such thing. They bring their thirsty faces into the water, unaware of its origin but appreciative of it simply being there. This is the first time in a while they could have had such a refreshing drink.
Because this world is dying.
This very sight brings pause to the centuries-old water spirit. By proxy of merely doing a solid for two of his mortal friends, however fleeting or temporary, he brings succor to the very beasts that do not comprehend his existence - nor would he commit theirs to memory, in any other circumstance. He knows he doesn't want to keep the rest of Fox Company waiting much longer, but yet, it spurs him to reach deep into the recesses of Althena's Blessing - the Blessing of a Goddess that now condemns him so. He refills the tiny lake's contents, startling the gathering beasts with the unknown origin of this water. Their thirst sees them return for more.
Because this world is dying.
---
The vegetation is growing sparser by the day, even here in the greener parts of eastern Ignas. Lanval knows he is a potent water spirit. He remembers that sermon he once thought was ridiculous, a sign of flagging faith he wanted to later help renew in the Goddess. How the very forces of nature of the Blue Star were embodied by specific entities - the Guardians.
To think one would be the entire wind. To think one would be the entire ground he sits on. To even go so far to think that one would be the very moon in which he dwelt. Maybe he couldn't think of it going that far, just yet. He could scarce believe any singular entity could have what it takes to be all of a world... even the Goddess, he reflects, had created potent servants in which to help spread the Blessing in less tumultuous times.
He looks back up to the sliver of the Silver Star visible in the sky. He knows he can't go back there, that he'll probably be living the rest of his existence upon this dying world... what a long time it will be. What will he do in a century, after his mortal friends all take their leave of life?
He looks down to the drying, desertifying ground underneath himself. Does this world even have a hundred years? Maybe it's not something that can wait, he thinks, as he has himself another swig of his gourd.
Because this world is dying.
There has to be something he can do. He's doing something right now, giving fresh water to the wild beasts... but could there be more? Something that goes beyond helping Tethelle fight against the strange metal-clad creatures that seem intent on destroying the power of the Guardians, or much of any of the mortal conflicts that seem to cover more of this land in dust and ruin. Something that goes further than even just trying to thin out those few patches of Malevolence to find upon this land.
All he needs to do, he reasons, is to just up and meet with them... but where can he reach them? An hour spent trying to speak to the water does not prove fruitful. (He tries again, this time under the water, with no more success.)
It comes to him. Oh, yeah, there's a few mortals who do just that, he thinks, reaching out to them. He'd better go see them sooner than later, as he turns away from the small body of water that will soon dry up without him being there. A divine gift that is fleeting, soon to disappear not because of the greed of the parched, but because of the otherwise inescapable reality that seems without recourse.
Because this world is dying.
He thinks, maybe, even this far away from the Goddess and everything he ever knew, he might be in a place to do something about that.