2018-06-24: Mirror, Mirror: Difference between revisions

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*'''Cutscene: Mirror, Mirror'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Character :: Ida Everstead-Rey]]
*'''Where:''' Castle Rabenstein, Mt. Manfred
*'''Date:''' 06-024-2018
*'''Summary''': ''Ida and her assistant complete their preparations, and begin an experiment on the Earthpulse beneath Mt. Manfred. It has violent and unexpected results.''
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'''ONE WEEK AGO'''
'''ONE WEEK AGO'''


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"I think this merits further study," she says.
"I think this merits further study," she says.
[[Category:Cutscenes]]
[[Category:Chapter 1]]
[[Category:Chapter 1, Act 3]]

Latest revision as of 14:01, 3 July 2018

  • Cutscene: Mirror, Mirror
  • Cast: Ida Everstead-Rey
  • Where: Castle Rabenstein, Mt. Manfred
  • Date: 06-024-2018
  • Summary: Ida and her assistant complete their preparations, and begin an experiment on the Earthpulse beneath Mt. Manfred. It has violent and unexpected results.


ONE WEEK AGO

Ida sits atop a pile of cushions, watching as her Mannikins finish their preparations. From her vantage-point atop a chunk of floating rock, she can see the entire chamber--a cavern beneath Castle Rabenstein, split lengthwise by a deep fissure in the earth. Radiant blue-white light spills from it, and eddies of power swirl through the air like wind. Slabs of stone float lazily in these currents, like soap bubbles in the summer sky. It almost feels peaceful--or it would, if Ida's body and mind weren't still reeling from her battle with the Trial Knight the day before. Once she'd recovered enough to walk, she buried herself in a project to try and take her mind off of K.K.'s words, but they still echoed in her mind. She watched her assistant from afar, observing the way he interacted with the Mannikins--Oswald might have left Neo-Vane in disgust, but his magical aptitude remained leagues ahead of Ida's own. Under his instruction, the Mannikins lowered the final needles into place.

What does it mean to fall, Ida Everstead-Rey?

"Gently," Oswald whispers. The white porcelain mask that is his face floats in front of his head, which is more of a vague head-like suggestion made of inky darkness. It betrays no emotion, but Ida knows he's fretting. The pair of Mannikins listen, insofar as they can. Ida designed them to act something like the dolls they resembled--featureless, obedient, unquestioning. They display even less emotion than the Hellion guiding them as they lower the ten-foot iron spike into the crystalline socket prepared for it. A half-dozen more sockets are scattered throughout the cavern, each bearing a needle. Ida crafted them with Oswald's help, and based them off old, old plans she'd found in one of the tomes they stole from Vane. In days long past, people tried to use relics to tap into the raw power of the Earthpulses, and while such efforts had fallen out of favor in the modern era, the possibility remained. Ida's plan, up until last afternoon, had been to use this assembly to brute-force the creation of those strange crystalline memory-spheres the Trial Knight left behind. Now, though?

Now, Ida didn't know. She had no idea what would happen once the needle array began its work, and no plan for any potential results. She'd told herself she had known both of those things, but that was before the Trial Knight showed up in Castle Rabenstein's courtyard, and showed all three Furies the depths of their failure. Now, it felt like she was grasping at straws, searching for anything that could dull the pain of realization. Even if she didn't know what would happen, the project was something to do, something she'd brought to life through research, planning, and construction.

Ida can't help but feel as though it's on the verge of total failure, nevertheless.

The Mannikins step back from the final needle, allowing Oswald to gauge its position. He extends a single finger, whispers a few words, and goes as still as the statue he resembles. A beam of bright white light ignites on the tip of his finger, made visible by the haze of Malevolence. Oswald moves his hand with clockwork precision rivalling that of the Mannikins, using the beam as a surveyor's level. His mask floats away from the rest of him, circling the rune-etched spike several times, glancing at each of the other needles in turn. At long last, he straightens, rolls his shoulders, and looks up at Ida.

"It's ready for you," he says. Ida manages a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. The chunk of rock below her begins its slow, graceful descent, stopping once it's touched down. Ida takes a deep breath, rises from her cushions, and gives her assistant an appreciative nod. She tries not to think about how she still aches from yesterday.

"You've done well," Ida says. Oswald steps away, and she steps forwards, walking to the edge of the chasm with slow, even strides. A rune etched into the rock marks the place where she's supposed to sit, and she takes a seat atop it, crossing her legs and placing her hands atop her knees. Ida breathes in, and for lack of a better impetus, she focuses on the image of the Trial Knight in her mind's eye. Her stomach twists and tightens. Her hands clench into tight, white-knuckled fists. The Malevolent star in her chest throbs and pulses, and in response, the inner sphere of her Domain condenses around her in a sickly black-violet aura. Ida grits her teeth as power gathers around her, and once she thinks she has enough, she begins the incantation. Her voice boils with frustration, with anger--each syllable evokes memories of failure, torment, inadequacy. Memory is the key element. Iris Gems are said to be Lunar's own memories, and if Ida wishes to see them, she must first make Lunar remember. She must force it to remember.

The seven spikes ignite, one after another, burning with Malevolent radiance as their maker wills them to show Lunar her sins. The light of the distant Earthpulse fades, ever-so-slightly, as though it were curling up in fear.

Something trickles through the edges of Ida's consciousness, soft but insistent. It's not coming from this little fork of the Earthpulse, or its main body below the mountain--it's coming from somewhere outside. It's as though the Domain were alerting her to something that got its attention, but that can't be right, can it? Who would be powerful enough to reach through to the Domain master, knowledgeable enough to know it was possible, and daft enough to try?

"Whatever you are," Ida says, "you picked a hell of a time to call." Her voice is barely audible over the pulsing throb of Malevolence below, but it seethes. Black-violet plumes escape her mouth alongside her breath. Her eyes hood. Someone speaks, tells her their will listen. Ida feels grief and anger welling up around her--the other two Furies have their attention, too. Tendrils of brilliant energy trickle up from the chasm before her, flecked with dancing motes of Malevolence. The earth groans beneath her. Ida turns away, and tries to breathe. It's difficult to do--the more the voice speaks, the more it tells her of something going on outside, of intruders braving the final seals. Fear and doubt and anger war inside her, fanning the flames of the Malevolence within and around her. The needles pulse like the heartbeat of someone panicking. Is that someone her?

You deserve reprieve.

Don't talk to me, Ida hisses, and in that moment, she feels the Earthpulse heaving, far below. She snaps upright, eyes widening, lips pulling back from her teeth. "NO!" The word tears free from her throat, even though she knows it's already far too late. Malevolence sinks into the earth, ripping through the holy light of the Earthpulse like a rock through tissue paper. In its wake, it leaves only a yawning, sucking emptiness. She feels more than sees the vortex forming, a deep, dark, nothingness within the Earthpulse's energies. Lunar itself seems to recoil in horror. The ground shakes, shudders, trembles--it's like a bomb going off, far below, and Ida feels the shockwave rushing at her even as her mind struggles to process what's happening. She scrambles to her feet, turns, and takes a few stumbling steps before the blast catches her. The earth is snatched away from beneath her feet. Ida flies, feels herself strike something solid. Every nerve in her body ignites with pain. She feels gravity take hold once again, pulling her to the floor.

Would you die a farce to everything you could be, Ida Everstead-Rey?

Everything goes dark.


The world comes back in disjointed pieces. The empty, despairing anger of her own Malevolence. A sharp, stabbing pain in her right side. The cold stone floor beneath her head. A hand gripping her shoulder, squeezing it tight. A man's voice, alive with desperation. Oswald's voice.

"Ida. Ida!" Ida mumbles something in response, but can't muster proper words. "Oh. Oh, thank Althena." Ida mumbles something else at the mention of the name, but can't find the strength to so much as open her eyes. Everything aches, but her side hurts most of all, a pain that makes it difficult to breathe. She can feel the slow, steady slither of her flesh as it knits itself, but her regeneration seems to be taking its time--the Trial Knight took more out of her than she thought. The taste of blood is thick in her mouth. "I don't know what went wrong, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry..."

"Oswald," Ida whispers, once she can muster up enough breath. "I'll live. The Gem?" Pain takes the edge off the crushing sense of failure, but only barely. The objective. If the ritual worked, then--

"I'm... uncertain," Oswald says. Ida's throat tightens, and the heat rises in her face. "There's... something, but I'm not sure--"

"Bring it to me," Ida says. She lies there, listening to the soft, wet noises of her own regenerating flesh. By the time Oswald returns, the pain has died down--Ida opens her eyes, and sees him kneeling before her. Something glimmers in the palm of his gloved hand, but it's not an Iris Gem. It looks similar, but only in that it's clearly crystalline, and about the same size. It's a thin, flat pane, ragged at the edges--like a piece of glass broken out of a window. Malevolence washes across its face in slow, even pulses, and as she reaches out to pick it up, Ida feels that pulse quickening, as if synchronizing with the beat of her heart. It glimmers. It feels like a piece of raw, pure potential--like memories that have yet to be made.

It whispers something to her, in that same, hateful inner voice that's been tormenting her for months--it feels as though it's tamed that voice, for just a little while. It makes a promise to her.

Ida stares at the strange mirror in her hand, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, the weight on her feels light enough to bear.

"I think this merits further study," she says.