2022-06-03: Without Light

• Log: Without Light,
• Cast: Magilou, Marivel Armitage, Eleanor Klein, Zhang Xiumei, Hiro, Ida Everstead-Rey, Pearl, Rixia, Azoth, Seraph Liath, Ratatoskr, Josephine Lovelace,
• Where: Melehan, Shrine of Darkness (Submerged Ruins)
• Date: 2022-05-03
• Summary: The Vile Fiends, their friends, and even some people who would otherwise be foes (apparently, they're with Magilou) challenge the Trial of Darkness. But first, they must find peace with the darkness within themselves.

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<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

OST: Tales of Zestiria - Creeping Shadow https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dl3Nw7VI648

Melehan, the Shrine of Darkness hidden away in Spira, took some effort to unveil -- in the end, clues from Yuna and her Guardians were vital to the process. (Well, as soon as Magilou made it clear what she was asking about, anyway. Magilou is like that.) Their reports of an unknown, submerged ruin site would be vital, in the end, to searching out a new location. Having just confirmed their suspicions, Magilou's called the gang together.

Strangely, Eleanor helped. Since when have those two been working together?

Speaking of Magilou -- Mayvin, as some are now aware, though she's hardly introducing herself with her last name even now -- she's been suspiciously quiet, on the nature of Light's opposing element. But she did warn the people gathering before they embarked, with a strangely melancholic air:

"... a shadow may be an illusionist, or it may be a trickster... but in all cases, it goes where the light fears to tread. We leave in the darkness all those things which drive men past their limits... pain, terror, and happiness. Do take care."

It's a strangely direct expression of concern -- coming from Magilou, at least.

The approach through Baaj is sodden, reached by boat; the sky is dark and overcast, structures reaching out of the water like the fangs of some exposed predatory skull. The buildings here are destroyed, half-submerged -- there is a path, but it sinks ankle-deep into the water at some points, and breaks at others, requiring a leap from stone to stone. Some of these holes are submerged, which means wary travellers would do well to test the water -- lest the unwary go for a dip.

Tragically, everyone is going to have to go for a dip EVENTUALLY, because as it happens, the route to Melehan was so hard to find...

... because it's beneath Baaj Temple itself.

There is a comment to be made here, faith building on itself, myths from one age adapted to another, the continuous cycle of belief amongst men -- or, perhaps, its spiral. And yet, alas, Maechen is nowhere to be found. Another day, maybe.

Let us not talk around the point for too long. Submerged in the depths is a deep, dark, BIG something: it can be seen, now and again, even through the dark and murky water.

Its name is GEOSGAENO, and it is a Fiend of voracious hunger.

"It's big! It's mean! It's frightful and mephistophelean! I'm not dealing with that," Magilou declares, surfing through the air above on a paper doll shikigami. "But hey! You can you want." She proceeds to surf under the water, rather than over. She cuts an evasive path through the fallen underwater ruins, sweeping between fallen columns and crumbling statues to the submerged door.

Distracting Geosgaeno would be an excellent idea -- and so would be slipping through quietly. The approach to Baaj Temple is neither easy nor dry. Past a sunken statue of some old Spiran hero, shattered pillars, and seaweed, there lies a door. It is lined with pillars, engraved with patterns. Algae grows here, now the approach is underwater.

The smallest mercy is that it opens when approached. No fiddling with a latch in the middle of a tense chase sequence.

Hopefully, no one is claustrophobic -- because the hallway it opens into was designed for feet, not flippers. Swimming through, it opens to dry land, thankfully, as soon as they reach a chamber. The way to the Temple is barred -- but there is another route.

"It's not here," Magilou tells them, helpfully. "It's down there. Ugh! Seaweed!" (An aside yelp, as she flicks some kelp out of her hair, wringing it out now they're on dry land again.) And, indeed, to spiritual senses there IS a sense of layered reverence, to this place. Not entirely Spiran; not entirely a Temple.

They say that Temples and Shrines are neighbours, in some places. The traditions between them blend; the people adopt both into their lives. Or, perhaps, is one built on the bones on the other..?

The ways are forgotten, here. There are few who would know.

But there is a path, where stone meets stone, where rounded pillars give way to right edges. It is poorly-lit, poorly-indicated -- but it is there, all tucked away.

<Pose Tracker> Eleanor Klein has posed.

Eleanor Klein did help arrange people to come down to the Shadow Shrine, for some reason. When asked when she started working with Magilou, she didn't have much to say; she's not a good enough liar to make much up. She just smiled mysteriously and left it at that. She's getting pretty good at that one, anyway.

But for some reason she does find the prospect of the Shadow shrine somewhat daunting, and so she is glad to have friends here along the way. But what Magilou said of them leaving things in the darkness...

"Hm... I suppose all three do, at that..." It's a sobering thought, to pair happiness with pain, but she cannot deny that they so often go together.

Eleanor has dressed for the water at least, in light clothes that will dry easily. Long sleeves with shoulderless caps, a long dress with a wide skirt that's easy to swim in. It's Spiran-style attire, and Eleanor saves the waterproofing for her bag. Though it's not hard to dry herself out with a little Mystical help.

The big monster she is happy to avoid. Rather than worry about distracting, she makes use of her blue anklet to keep her agility strong, and another little bauble she's picked up that helps her breathe under the water. She goes past the statue, past the pillars...

Eleanor shivers a little at the tight quaters, but eventually they make it in. Eleanor dries herself off to avoid catching cold, and is willing to perform the same service for others--but she looks to Magilou for a moment. "I can feel it... This is the place."

She lifts her hand, and conjures a small ball of golden light to act as a torch, keeping it over her shoulder as she walks down, down, down.

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

Where Eleanor Klein goes, Zhang Xiumei isn't far behind.

They're engaged, now. (Somewhere, the Fangs of Valmar might sneeze.) But that was true before they were engaged, too. The human follows a little behind the elf, her eyes on Magilou -- and considering her warning. They leave things behind in the darkness.

<Guh. Humans and sorcery.> Varius complains in her mind. It has to stay in her mind.

But Geosgaeno ends up drawing Xiumei's eyes more, and she keeps along -- until they get underneath Baaj Temple. "The architecture's changed, some. I'm not an expert, but you can see--" She points to where the newer style of columns begins.

And she follows after Eleanor, down into the dark. Her eyes stay on Eleanor's back -- and the little golden ball of light.

"I wonder what we'll find..."

<Pose Tracker> Hiro has posed.

 
Before they disembarked, and after Magilou spoke of the dangers: Something sneakily flies behind Bienfu... and then... a much larger shape looms over the Normin and seizes him in mid-air with scary grabby hands. "OOBOOGEDYBOOGEDYBOOGEDY!"
 
~Exactly 1 minute and 24 seconds later~

"Go on... without me..."
 
Ruby feebly raises a precious pink pawsie at Hiro from her position face down on the ground... "... Hiro... I'm done for..."
 
Hiro gives her this small shake of her head. "You forgot that human form leaves you this wiped didn't you?" "..." "I hope that jump scare of Bienfu was worth it." "... it.... was..."
 
Approaching Baaj, Hiro finds himself looking at the Spiran temple with a sense of caution and wonder as he sloshes ankledeep in the water, or makes occasional leaps - casting a wary glance at Geosgaeno then he looks like he's considering going for it... "Maybe on the way back." He indicates before he tries to follow Magilou as deftly as he can despite her aerial superiority.
 
However there is a sort of... somber feel as she approaches... the hair on the back of his neck standing up as he agrees with Eleanor. "Yeah." Hiro's... fairly new to the nature of Shadow. He definitely doesn't feel comfortable in this place. And down... down... down he goes... into the depths... unto the place where shadows dance and play.
 
"A trial..." He answers Xiumei... "... though I'm not sure what kind."
 

<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.

Marivel Armitage is, of course, not going to skip out on a Shadow Shrine. Some might say this element of Marivel is predictable enough to be simple to anticipate.

Nevertheless, Marivel murmurs, "An unusual amount of Shrines in Spira. Well, I suppose that could be one reason to start a war."

She ends up quieting down a bit though because Magilou is delivering exposition and Marivel knows how important that is. She turns her head to Magilou. She wonders if her people had survived if she'd be giving similar disclaimers to places on Filgaia--well, it's just something she will only be able to speculate on time to time.

Marivel is wearing her adventuring gear which makes her look more like an ARMSmeister than a sorceress--those goggles aren't for magic!--but she keeps that cape. You've seen it all before.

"Oh no...! I can't cross running water...! I'll have to find another way around...!" Marivel lies through her teeth because she does eventually just make her way through, even through the water. She doesn't need to breathe but she puts on a rebreather anyway just to avoid sucking in any gross water.

Marivel's contribution to distracting Geosgaeno' is dropping down some explosives some distance away and detonating them in an attempt to lure the creature away.

She squints at Eleanor who is being MYSTERIOUS.

"Who taught you to be cagey like that anyway?" She asks as she clambers back onto dry(ish) land.

"Hate when water gets in the ears..." Marivel grumbles.

She cracks a smile at Ruby but mostly is quiet for now on her new ability. And naturally, Marivel seems pretty much completely at home in a dank dark place like this. Waterlogged ears aside.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

One shrine already had something important Azoth in it, why not another? It's worth investigating for clues, even if Azoth senses nothing of his within Melehan. Of course, the nature of shadow could conceal it from him.

Sneaking past Geosgaeno, traversing the dampness and ruins, swimming through watery tunnels... Azoth emerges, shaking out his synthetic hair and wringing out his clothing before trying to discreetly unlatch a part of his face to drain out excess water between a crack where his cheek meets his jaw. It's not weird if you don't look. A small fish falls out, and Azoth gently returns it to the water before catching back up with everyone.

For a machine that cannot utilize sorcery on his own, Azoth can be quite sensitive to the pulses of its power. His eyes dim, maybe out of respect for darkness.

"Something involving pain, terror, and happiness, from the sound of it!" he chimes in cheerfully as he ambles after the others, betraying no fear for what this magic could dig out of him given what the last trial managed to drag out of his core. "Mmmmaybe it would be a good idea to stick close. It's easy to get lost the darker it gets."

He decides to prioritize his attention on the group instead of the architecture.

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

Ida is still somewhat upset at Magilou for aiding and abetting Harmaus, but if nothing else, she is a historian, and Ida needs her help. She can set aside her distaste while working with Ragnell, and she can do the same with Magilou. (Mostly.)

The heiress, dressed in colorful Spiran vest, billowing slacks, and midriff-cut top, leaps from rock to rock with the deftness of someone who has done this many times. She glances down as they approach the end of the path. Something dark and enormous slips by, beneath the surface. Or was it just her imagination?

It's not. The moment Magilou announces its presence, Ida glances down and sees the Fiend more clearly. Its cage-like torso looks like the bones of the drowned. Its clawed pincers could easily crush someone to paste. "Lovely," Ida says. Her flares will be useless underwater, and her jaw tenses. She's been leaving Ruby to her own devices, aside from a look when she decided to torment Bienfu, but now she has a very important question. "Can you swim, or will you need someone to carry you?"

They need to get past the Fiend, first. As Marivel dumps in her explosives, Ida adds to the commotion: she pulls a flare off her belt, lights it, and hurls it in yet another direction. The resulting bloom of light casts long, ominous shadows, while the BOOM--and the ripples it causes--are just the thing to attract a hungry monster.

Once the distraction is in place, and the matter of Ruby is settled, Ida dives right in and swims for it. She has to fight down a surge of fear as the tunnel closes in. She almost drowned in a corridor like this, when her graft spread to her spine mid-Dig. That was years ago. Now, a silvery webwork spreads between her fingers, helping her swim faster. When she reaches the end, she hauls herself out as fast as humanly possible, and sits on dry ground, breathing deeply. She keeps one eye on the tunnel, ready to help anyone else should they encounter trouble, Fiendish or otherwise, but no one gets eaten. Ida rises, lets Eleanor dry her off, and stretches. The webwork vanishes into her skin.

"A wise idea," Ida says, to Azoth.

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

Josephine Lovelace has invited herself into the proceedings. It may be uncertain how she found out -- did someone mention it to her specifically, did she catch wind of some whispered word -- but she has been involved (perhaps regrettably) from slightly past the outset.

This may have worked to everyone's general fortune, however: no matter how disagreeable a woman Josie might be (her various affiliations and relations aside) she is apparently still an archaeologist. And an archaeologist is a fine thing to have on board when searching for a long-lost shrine.

Especially when, as it so happens, Josie had spent some time scouring this land only a few years prior.

"Charming," she remarks, lopsided grin and all, of the Fiend apparently crawling in the depths. "Well, we ain't getting younger, right?"

If she had been asked, her reason for being present in the first place was quite simple: it's personal. ('Don't worry yourself up or none, I ain't bringin' anything but myself. Odessa doesn't right care about it, anyhow.') It was a favor to a friend.
...That friend being Seraph Yvain, apparently. Which she would admit to if asked!

But first, there is a small matter of a dive.

"Ugh, woulda packed my swim trunks if I'd known," Josie sighs, turning herself around as she drips onto the tiles within. "Well, no matter. Sooner down, sooner dry. ...Or something like, anyhow." At least her powder's dry; that's the only thing that really matters. "...So this is where darkness dwells, eh?"

Snapping her fingers, she summons her own small floating bubble of light, which assumes a small orbit near to her head.

"Let's see what we get."

<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.

"So one of them's here...? So one of them's here!"
 
  Wait, could it be... an Odessa ambush?! Ratatoskr is one of their, uh, most prolific agents, and his presence anywhere can and ought be treated as being linked to their interests no matter how squirrely (sorry) his appearance. The most alarming thing about all this is that, without really any prompting or pointing out, he's around here anyway!
 
  It's one of them coincidences. He doesn't have much trouble moving alongside slick footholds nor with the occasional wading. He might have trouble with others protesting, as the glow of his solid yellow eyes light up to reveal that wide grin he bears.
 
  When they get to the water where that enormous Fiend awaits, there is the greatest gift of all: he doesn't seem to notice them there, which neatly sidesteps a number of outcomes that may be both good and bad at the same time! But they're eventful, time-wasting possibilities that are sidestepped in favor of seeing the point of the journey (uninvited).
 
  "I want to see this...!" Ratatoskr grins. Completely contrary to some of Magilou's warnings, outside of the Photosphere, the Hyadean remnant has scarce ever appeared to be outwardly bothered or haunted over-much... soldiering on his own interests and obsessions. He brings no additional artificial light to these depths beyond the shine of his own eyes, so filled with youth of a nineteen-to-twenty-five year-old for lack of any other descriptive concepts one can apply to them.

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

What dwells in Shadow?

Perhaps it'd be an easy thing to confine the elements of darkness to the most vile and evil parts of the soul. To think of it little better than Malevolence. But what really dwells in the places light doesn't reach?

Past the bog, around the GEOSGAENO - OPTIONAL BOSS, beneath the waves, lies a door. And beyond that door, is dark. Golden light pulsing from Eleanor's conjured magics peel away those shadows, inch by inch. And what do they find beyond?

'A trial... though I'm not sure what kind.'

Hiro's musings on the matter have just been voiced by the time the light pushes away the dark to find someone standing at their destination: dressed in green, her hair goldspun and tipped in white, and one arm sleeved in knightly armor, she stands in the pathway, wordless and contemplative. Bright gold eyes tilt their way.

Past the shadows, Prime Lord Liath is there once again like at Hoel, seemingly waiting for them at their destination.

And just as before, despite being a member of Althena's Guard, despite the way her hand rests on the hilt of her sword, she makes no overt moves against any of them. So then, why?

No answer seems forthcoming, as Liath does not seem especially talkative right now. All she has to offer them is a small, subdued smile, and a simple, "So you are here. Good."

... before the Light Seraph pushes further into the darkness beyond them, little motes of prismatic colors swimming alongside her as she walks.

there is kind of a big clump of seaweed ensnared on her sopping braid but it's otherwise all a very solemn moment

<Pose Tracker> Pearl has posed.

For better or worse, Pearl felt she was prepared for this. She had spent most of her life in darkness, after all. But after having been in the light, the thought of diving back into that darkness was... daunting. Pain and terror... she knew those lived in darkness. But happiness? She'd never found that there.

And so Pearl has reverted a touch to non-talkative. What she does do, howegver, is follow Hiro's lead, crossing from stone to stone with the acrobatic skill she developed in the shadows, her steps light and sound muted. Her eyes track Geosgaeno, and the depths of her soul feel offended. That the Lord of All Waters should have to hide and flee from this jumped up octopus with a fancy ribcage.

"We are not here for the fiend." She whispers to herself, a little too loud to go unheard. "We shall slay it another time." When it comes time to dive, Pearl dives, propelling herself well, if not expertly. Sadly her aeons abilities in the sea don't transfer to her. When Marivel's explosives go off, Pearl makes a risky lunge forward to grant herself extra speed. It pays off when she pulls herself to the ground, and runs her finger down the single red thread in the cuff of her robe, the Blessing of the Fire Shrine in the clothes drying her out and giving her warmth instantly.

She looks up at the sound of an overeager voice. Ratatoskr, the one who talked about fighting eggs. "There is no need to draw the attention of everything in reach." She whispers, looking away from Josie's light. She had hoped to let her eyes adjust, see if magic was needed. Leo Jr wasn't with her this time, she travels only with the group here. And then she sees Liath in the way and her heart steels. Did the Seraph know who Pearl was? Almost certainly. Did she know the deed she had committed? Well there wasn't a bounty on her head yet.

Wordlessly, Pearl walks into darkness without hesitating.

<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

PRIOR TO DISEMBARKING:

"EEYEEEK!" Is the sound of a Normin being terrified by the littlest dragon of Lunar, now transformed into the spunkiest human girl of Lunar. "Biiiiennnnn!!!" Flapping his little bat wings in terror, he scrambles away from Ruby, turning into a speck of light and vanishing into Magilou's heart.

He probably won't be much use in this Shrine. The little guy's gotta calm down first!

And Magilou's fey mood can at least break long enough to laugh at that.

Luckily, the ship they came here on is safe enough for Ruby to recover. Maybe some people will stay behind to keep an eye on her. Maybe that reserve party will come looking for the active party later, if everyone takes too long down there. Maybe Ruby will send them looking. Look forward to the conclusion to this exciting plot thread... tomorrow!

ANYWAY, BACK TO BAAJ.:

Thanks to some well-placed explosives and quick swimming, the team evades Geosgaeno! (Even Rixia, thanks to the power of Junction.)

As for grievous foes like Josephine and Ratatoskr and Liath being here, Magilou waves off any concerns with: "Oh, don't worry, they're with me." Are they? Are they, really? Is this the sort of company Magilou keeps?! (Well, yes, that's true.)

Azoth's fish gratefully splashes back into the water and swims off. It will live to glub another day!

Magilou rattles her head to shake the water out. "Singularly unpleasant!" She agrees, when Marivel complains about water getting in her ears. Magilou has big ears for a human (let's not compare them to other elves' ears), so it's a real problem. As she walks past Liath, she picks the clump of seaweed out of her braid, in a passing motion. "We can't have your astounding presence ruined by spinach in your teeth!" She tells her, as she tosses it aside, despite the fact that it was neither spinach nor in her teeth.

"You can feel it too, huh?" She asks Eleanor, as they descend. "Though I suppose it's perfectly visible," she cedes, to Xiumei's eyes, as the style of the stone changes. As they go down, below Baaj Temple --

The corridor opens to a chamber. While the architecture of Baaj featured pillars and honoured statues, engraved stone and evenly-spaced brickwork, the ambiance of Melehan is a step to the left. There are still columns, but they have four square sides rather than being round -- the brickwork which makes up the floor is still smooth, but its patterns are erratic, rather than regular. Much of the decoration hinges on right angles, square or rectangle, straight lines; this makes the places where the features are more organic stand out so much MORE. Curves and circles, about the door to the Shrine, ancient engraving carved in its centre.

For some reason, there are guttering lights, here. It's unclear when -- or how -- they were lit.

The warning is written in the Ancient Tongue -- some might recognise it as Zeboim, instead.

                   ------------------------------------------
                   - Unspoken, the follower traveled behind -
                   - Holding obscure and implicated things, -
                   - It gave shelter to its neighbours, but -
                   - What cannot be heard will not be said. -
                   ------------------------------------------

"Whatever!" Magilou, who has never bothered to learn Ancient because it's a mess of references and allusions with all the soul of poetry and potential, exclaims as soon as she's transcribed it into a diary. (She'll send it to Grimoirh later. Let her deal with the headache of figuring out all the translation possibilities.) "It's not like anyone wants to go back out there, so forward it is! Into the Shrine of Darkness," she adds, perhaps for Rixia's benefit.

She throws open the doors, and marches inside. The corridor which follows is narrow enough that everyone will have to walk in one at a time. One side is lined with blood-red lights which do not sputter. They shine brightly at what would roughly be heart-height for the average person a millennium ago -- so a little lower for a lot of people, now -- and the notable thing is that there is enough space between them that the shadow of each person who walks is cast on the opposite wall. Forward... to back. Forward... to back.

It's only after the last person walks through that those lights die, behind them -- and keep dying, until everyone's walked through. By the time they reach the far door, there are only a few lights remaining, not nearly so bright. These dance like candles, though there is no evident flame; the shadows jump, back and forth, around them. No smoke can be smelt.

"Well," Magilou remarks, "I do hope no one's afraid of the dark."

The room which that narrow corridor empties out into has some more of those dim, sputtering lights -- all arranged on slidable stones which can be directed around a statue of a regal man. An Ancient inscription reads: 'The Hero King's vision shelters us. Live with great vigor.'

Of course, it's a matter of finding the right shadow to cast -- only then will the click of a door be heard in the darkness. This much is standard fare, for the industrious Drifter, secrets long-buried behind puzzles and traps.

It's not the strangest thing.

The strangest thing is the way everyone's shadows seem to be moving, in the flickering light. The movements don't... entirely... match up. Reach out to slide a stone, and the shadow of your hand lingers, a moment too long.

Sometimes there are whispers, from directly behind -- though never loud enough to be heard by more than their specific person. No wonder. They're cast by the shadows of your ears and your teeth. Each has something different to say, some comment on the situation or on the questant's decision to come here.

Some of them are critical and cruel; some are much more kind. Always, they say what is unspoken. Sins held in the heart, horrors unacknowledged -- or, at times, the absolution buried and denied under the weight of all those sins. And yet, they are scarce whispers; in the next moment, they are gone.

For instance, the way Magilou looks behind her, a light frown crossing her face. "Hmm," she says, and says nothing more.

What can she say, to the shadow which turns away on the far wall, divorced from her own movement? The murmur which shadows her, which asks with melancholy: '... aren't your new friends reliable? It's easy to say everyone is here for their own reasons, but... didn't they all want to help you?'

Illusions, she supposes, as she lounges aside rather than push blocks. The shadow she casts does not fold its arms, as she does. She watches the others, as they deal with their puzzle. She doesn't blink at those questions, a voice much like hers -- when she was so much younger. Insufferably earnest.

'Does it hurt you so much that you can trust someone?'

An illusion which draws from her own memory... how nostalgic.

OOC: Your character's shadow is another version of themselves which evokes alternate possibilities -- what would happen if the guiding light which delineates your character went out, leaving them undefined by it -- or which speaks to what they have buried and left unacknowledged. It can be either positive or negative; the tone you set with your shadow will define, to a certain extent, your character's journey through the Shrine. Strange magics ensure that this shadow is able to carve to the heart of each character's personal struggles, even if they're kept well-hidden. Please feel free to establish your shadow's tone in this round; they will continue escalating in later rounds.

<Pose Tracker> Eleanor Klein has posed.

Eleanor, for her part, doesn't get water in her ears. Thankfully. That would've been really unpleasant! But she's dry when they're done, dry and walking near Xiumei--she is willing to take up the forefront to explore, but is very comforted by how close her fiancee is staying. She isn't sure what they'll find either, but she turns back to smile at Xiu, when she asks. "Whatever we find, we'll all face it together. Right?"

marivel, of course, lies through her teeth. It's hilarious. But when she asks Eleanor who taught her to be so mysterious, the younger elf laughs. "I wonder!"

She is curious about the presence of the Guard--Liath in particular--but other than watching her, doesn't intrude on her privacy. She does help out Ida. Even Josie gets a response, and Eleanor says, "I believe you. Besides... it's the Shrine's decision whether you're worthy, isn't it?"

She pauses at Ratatoskr though. "..." Pause pause. "Well, that's..." Oh well.

"Right," she says to Pearl at her murmur, hoping to reassure the scarred woman a bit, since she seems... tense. And Rixia--"That's pretty good for not swimming..."

But as they go through, Eleanor indeed says to Magilou, "I can. But--Yes, Xiumei's got a good idea for this..."

She can't read the Ancient Tongue. Yet. She should get on learning that.

Eleanor is willing to walk first through that narrow corridor, thoug she shudders at the red lights. But the shadow... She notices that hers is moving strangely. It's... odd. Her own light is having difficulty in this place, being just a minor spell.

"...I can handle the dark," Eleanor says, though she reaches back for Xiu's hand. And then she looks to the statue of the man. "Hmmm..."

'You can reach for her, but she can't protect you from everything. You're an adult now, Eleanor.'

"W-what...?" Eleanor blinks at the voice, looking around as she works on the puzzle.

'You know you can't trust all of them either. They're here for their own reasons--everyone is.'

"..." Eleanor frowns. She looks behind herself, thoughtfully.

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

"I hope one we can handle," Xiumei admits to Hiro, with a slight frown. She is already wearing the armor from her Biometal, which means her eyes are glowing green instead. She looks at him for a moment; then she looks sideways at Azoth, and smiles at him for just a moment. "That... seems like a good idea."

She does look at Josie -- warily, one might add, as a member of Odessa (and Ratatoskr, besides!) -- before she looks ahead again. Her eyes are briefly on Marivel. "You, ah, you might be the inspiration, Marivel..."

She looks at Liath -- blinking when she spots the Guard member -- and tilts her head. She watches her with curiosity; she almost opens her mouth, though, and seems to debate the clump of seaweed. Except... except...

...no she shouldn't...

She shakes her head quickly.

She does give a smile to Rixia, before she looks at the written warning. She can't understand it, herself. She steps through, after them, and then frowns when it goes dark. "I think we expected it, given... it's the trial of darkness," she admits. She hesitates, before her eyes turn, and then there's a pause.

She takes Eleanor's hand, fingers squeezing hers. She takes a few steps forward.

She hears a whisper behind her.

'They're very kind to me. Everything I've done... choosing to have the Biometal.' Xiumei looks up. Her green eyes widen, as the voice speaks to her. It's a voice she knows. It's her voice. 'They say it's okay. But it's still made it hard for them. And you know that, Xiumei. Does saying it's okay really make it okay to you? To trouble them so?'

She swallows. "We should--"

Another voice in her head, much more familiar, speaks up. <Shut the HELL UP!>

"Varius?" she asks, her voice catching with fear.

The Reploid's ghost goes quiet, after that, in her mind. Avile makes a noise -- a half-strangled sigh -- and then does the same.

"...Did... everyone hear something?" Xiumei asks, nervously.

<Pose Tracker> Hiro has posed.

Ruby waves at Ida, It's fine... go on without me..." Before she sticks up a pawsie at... Rixia, a thumbs up maybe? She has no thumbs.

"No reason to think we can't." Hiro says with a sort of boyish arrogance Xiumei's way... when Liath appears. Hiro seems honestly a bit shocked that Liath showed up again. He really doesn't understand her motives - after all, she's supposed to be very close to Althena. And what they're doing... however, she hasn't tried to stop them, in fact she's been of aid every single time. So when she turns around with seaweed in her hair, Hiro stares at it... before eventually leaning over to Eleanor and whispering, "Should I just... get that? Let her know...?"
 
Down, down they go. He examines the sign - he's only a novice at the ancient tongue, so he starts puzzling it out... he's only half done though when Magilou throws the doors open wide. "Of course we're not. And besides... none of us will be alone down here right?"
 
Hiro's shadow is at first in synch with him, then subtly off. Like there's a half second behind. Then shapes form with the shadow's hands... like a child's shadow puppets... they evoke a bird, a soundless flapping of wings. You can only see it out of its periphery, look straight at it...
 
... and it's returned back to its position.
 
It begins simply enough. The hands become a wolf's head which seems to lean, slavering near his ear.
 
Sound Clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSJ6YIWhOyo
 
"Your friends will abandon you."
 
Hiro stops briefly, looks behind him. He sees nothing. There's a smile, a shake of his head as he scoffs at it. Like the very idea is ridiculous.
 
He keeps walking... the wolf's head formed of shadow's hands returns again beside his ear. "You close in upon journey's end. They all have their own agendas. Their own motivations. Their own desires. What need have any of them for you... once you are there?"
 
His pace... slows, his smile starts to fade...
 
"No." Hiro lies to Xiumei. It is a small thing. A little white lie... here in the dark.
 

<Pose Tracker> Rixia has posed.

Rixia discovers a problem that is not the gunblade's problem: She's still sopping wet after she squeezes through the passage, and therefore torments anyone in a five foot radius around her by batting her tail and ears in the exact style of a wet cat. (NO she is not a cat!) "U-uwehh..."

She sniffles a little and pouts to Magilou. "Shrine of Darkness? You take me to the nicest places... why don't we just go to a parfait stall sometime..."

Still, this is some very intricate architecture, Rixia doesn't think, because she's not the kind to appreciate ancient structures and doesn't have a bone of archaeology or anthropology in her. She pauses at the sign, and then announces in the most powerful Truth imaginable:

"That sign can't stop me because I can't read it."

One moment later, though, maybe she does want the sign to stop her, because it suddenly goes very dark and Magilou hopes no one's afraid of the dark. "I-I'm not afraid of the dark," Rixia whines in the exact tone of 'I am absolutely afraid of the dark.'

At least Eleanor and Xiumei are here, as is Ida and that trusty shady-ass ARMsmeister Leviram. "Hey Miss Eleanor, Miss Xiumei, Miss Ida, Miss Leviram, fancy seeing you here again. Is this a regular thing for you guys...?"

The moment Rixia follows her though, her own shadow starts to shift and she absolutely doesn't catch it. "Oh, these blocks....? This is a Drifter thing, isn't it--"

There's a whisper behind her.

'Papa is gonna reward me for getting a 100 on my test with PANCAKES! He's gonna put butter and maple syrup on it!'

Rixia pauses and whips her head back. "Who's talking about pancakes?!"

Her shadow is... girly, as if cast straight from Rixia's mind about what a Picturesquely Perfectly Happy Girl looks like. Complete with bow ribbons in her twintails. Very curiously, her shadow also has a Ronso horn sticking out of her forehead. 'Mama's going to read me stories all night, she promised, for being a good girl. Then, tommorow, we're all going to go out to an AQUARIUM! If I'm a good girl then too, I'll get a penguin as a pet!'

"What the heck, you jerk!" Rixia shouts. "How come you get a penguin and I don't?!"

... what the hell is rixia responding to???????

<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.

It's that kid, Marivel thinks as she sees Rixia. WEll how about that.

"Beat me to it again," Marivel remarks to Liath, but smiles all the same. "But I'm glad you're here." As ever, the creature of the night is drawn to beings of light by all accounts. She shakes her head a few times to get any remaining drops out. Ugh.

She slows a bit, glancing over to the warning.

"Oh good," Marivel lies again. "Luckily I have no secrets."

Marivel doesn't translate for anyone though. Sorry everybody. Maybe someone else will. Or if someone asks.

It's not out of spite, though, because she sniffs once and squints her crimson eyes, particularly at those blood red lights--and then adjusts her gaze as she studies her own shadow, moving about like it's finally escaped the chains that bind it to its originator.

Some whispers are inaudible to any but Marivel, but some break through--stronger secrets, perhaps.

"Will we find it again?"

Marivel cracks a smile and doesn't say anything. The shadow pulls away, flickering against the stone.

It pushes at the stone--Marivel pushes it along with her shadow, following its lead.

"Liath." She says softly.

"Those lights. He's here. Unless there's another one I missed."

She leaves it at that for now.

A faint tension lingers around Marivel's shoulders, but she doesn't take it out on her Shadow.

The shadow quickly pulls back away though, never lingering with Marivel for too long. It looks at her. Marivel hesitates and then--

WHAT THE HECK YOU JERK HOW COME YOU GET A PENGUIN AND I DON'T

Marivel stumbles and drops her microphone to the ground and it makes a reverberating THWONGG noise and Marivel curses softly and picks it back up.

"Yes. That is most...unfair." MArivel manages, glancing to Hiro.

"They're trying to uncover some secrets." She says. "None of us have anything to hide, right?"

Way more dry this time. Though--

"Me? The inspiration? ... Well, I'm flattered." She keeps going back and forth. Yup. Good job.

"Really unfair to hit you with that Xiumei." She already has voices in her head now she might have like way more.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth flashes Xiumei and Ida what he hopes is a reassuring smile. There's promises Azoth has to keep, too, even if there's nothing value to be found. People to protect because he's said as much. Others to protect because they've fallen into the logic that guides him. And others still because of deeper manipulations of his code.

Along the way, Azoth smiles nervously at Ratatoskr. "Hey, so... um. Sorry. About before. I didn't really give you the right kind of fight." Does Ratatoskr even remember? Or care? Ratatoskr seems a resilient sort of fellow, and there are far more interesting things for him here to concern himself with than past battles.

Seeing the Ancient Tongue, Azoth pauses, and he projects holographic subtitles from his glowing eyes to translate for those who have less fluency in the language. But even thought he can translate it...

"Feels like a riddle." Azoth puffs his cheek. "I don't know the answer!" Language is tricky! Regardless of which one it is! And there's no time to ponder it before they all need to move on. Unfair...! Going one at a time is also unfair... A worrying formation. Darkness consumes them, and the light of Azoth's eyes doesn't seem to shine as far as it should.

Azoth's shadow most certainly does not match him. He knows the size is wrong, but the shape is what it ought to be: horned and clawed and tailed like a beast as ready for four legs as two, clad in plates of armor connected by flexible structure and impeccable technology. He slows, looking at it.

It's silent.

"I'm getting visual errors," Azoth says, his gaze darting to the shadows. "...And some audio ones..."

Voices not his own, but voices not quite right, and others responding to voices he doesn't hear. He knows what's starting to happen -- that these voices are speaking to them, to the depths of their heart and the darkness in their souls.

Azoth's does not say anything.

...Why won't it say anything...?

<Pose Tracker> Pearl has posed.

The darkness is further than Pearl thought, and Magilou beats her down the path. Fine. A thin path with lights. Pearl chooses to be ahead of the Guard, rather than behind it. Iswd this cowardice, assuming they won't shoot you in the back through other allies? Is she so off balance?

"...I have become used to it. The fear is simply part of darkness, as you said." She crosses the light, walking forward and then...

"Ah, xiao jie!" The voice is hers, but chipper. Lively. "You're doing real well lately, right? I know it wasn't what you were hoping for. Y'know. Before." Pearl's whole stance stiffens. She can hear the others reacting with shock, despair, a dearth of penguins. She continues to walk forward, almost silently. "Whatever these are, they're here to present difficulty. We should ignore them and press on."

Because ignoring intrusive voices ALWAYS works.

"Don't be like that! You've got friends and friendly strangers here! You'll get through this fine. And when you do, you can maybe show them some proper hospitality! A proper meal or somethin'!"

Pearl's eyes are steeled ahead, as she doesn't respond.

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

"Lady Liath," Ida whispers, as the last shadows part. Part of her is deeply glad to see the Seraph, but the rest of her is wary. She takes that wariness in, and lets it breathe--lets it articulate itself, so it doesn't end up smothered. She can't sense any Malevolence nearby, but it's best practices. Not even the clump of seaweed seems to kill Ida's solemn respect entirely, though she does smile, just a little.

Ida stops at the foot of the statue, reading Azoth's translations. "A follower," she says--more a comment than an answer--and she glances back at her shadow. It mirrors her perfectly, turning to look at nothing. There was a time when Malevolence forced open a sorcerous connection to the world, and while Ida never used it for battle, it turned every shadow into her ally. The memory twists her lips ito a frown. She walks past the lights, and nothing awful happens. There are no traps, no Fiends, no ancient sorceries.

Or are there?

Idiot girl. Why are you even here?

The voice hisses into Ida's ear. It's familiar, but off somehow, and now those nearby can hear it, too. Ida stops in her tracks, a look of annoyance crossing her face. But she looks at the others--hears things, soft and faint--and that look falls right off her face, replaced with fear.

You keep throwing yourself into the fire, hoping this time you emerge with all your sins absolved. Maybe this time will be the one that saves you. It won't. And neither will the one after that. How long before you realize how selfish you are?

Ida clenches her teeth. She steps forward, towards Eleanor, and in the process, accidentally gives her an earful. How long before you break, and break those who've trusted in you?

<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.

Ratatoskr is with Magilou by her admission (even he seems kind of surprised by this, what with a mouthed-out 'cool') as he takes in the square-ness of what can be seen. All the hard angles, and... surprisingly little commentary, as he hasn't been about this part of Spira before and has very few preconceived notions about what he expects or hopes to find beyond the broad, unspecific scope of 'wanting to see this.' Why shouldn't he? It's somehow a part of some small concentrated counter-offensive against Althena, and that's history in the making and... everyone knows that thread of thought by now.
 
  Azoth gives an apology. "There's still time...!" Ratatoskr's in a good mood, it seems, even when others (rightfully) express concern or what have you.
 
  He does get out that Hyadean datapad to try and draw the shapes of what's said in the Ancient Tongue even if he doesn't 'get' it. He knows it's a thing, but to the greatest tragedy of eras that will follow, the manner of writing it misses out on the exact nuances involved in creating the inscription which will lead to... challenges, should this writing ever be referenced.
 
  Then Azoth transmits a holographic subtitle and writes that down, walking wholesale into the darkness while looking at nothing but his own interests.
 
  The only thing that catches him is the way the shadows underneath the smokeless lights move. The surviving Hyadeans, genetically engineered to be battle-ready super-soldiers for Mother's conquest of Filgaia, are often very sensitive to even the slightest off-kilter movement that gets the horn upon his head to start gathering a low thrum of energy. Its faint illumination doesn't even register within the darkness. Somehow... the voice, itself, that speaks to the horned squirrel-like Hyadean is even more faint - perhaps audible only by those most perceptive of others' own emotional states.
 
  'Your people are defeated, scattered, and lost.' That voice asks. 'So few left to carry what's left of Hyades forward, you would instead carry those who vanquished you? They don't want you to.'
 
  One of Mother's greatest cruelties is that Ratatoskr's facial expression can only go from 'smile' at lowest, but that grin softens without commentary.

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

If there is one thing that is honest about Josephine, it is her reaction when Ratatoskr arrives on the scene: she, truly, had not expected him. Not in the slightest.

But that fact won't keep her from a quick recovery and about-face. "Well, I'll be damned! Ain't you a sight for sore eyes!"

And so on, and so on, it would seem.

(Is Josie with Magilou? Yes. It's definitely yes. Josie might not even be lying! (this is halfway true).)

She might give Xiumei a little wave, though, because while she is a great many things, Josie is also a bit of an asshole.

"Sure is. If'n it didn't want me here, I'd be kicked right on out," she tells Eleanor while wearing a shit-eating grin. "Ain't that how these things work? Guess it can see my pure heart after all!"

A sign presents itself, marking the way below. "Hmm... 'follower'," Josie reads aloud off the sign, her lips moving. Here and there, she's picked up a few scattered words in the script. "...gave... shelter? Something, something... 'heard'." She considers the sign for a moment. "Ah, yes, 'having done these things, they made the sacrifices prescribed by custom lest they be found lacking in filial piety'," Josie says, nodding as if to underscore the statement. "The standard sort of thing," she continues, waving a hand dismissively. "Let's get on with it."

There is light below. Josie regards the space that appears to cast it forth for a moment longer before shaking her head and venturing on. It's not much longer beyond that point that the lights start to die out.

Even her spell -- the least-most of the Symbology she can manage -- barely illuminates at all by the time they have descended a distance. It's but as bright as starlight on a moonless night: not even enough to read by, let alone mind her steps. "I've worse," she remarks, brightly, as her light continues to slowly die. "As long as there ain't any steps or stones missing or none, I think we'll do right--"

'Who are you really doing this for?'

It sounded like someone just whispered into her ear just then. Josie pauses, glancing over her shoulder (it isn't as if she can see whoever is behind her anyway, as dim as her light has gotten). "...What're you on about? Didn't I already say?"

'You miss them, don't you? Don't you want to go back?'

"...Right, that's enough outta you," Josie mutters aloud in the dark, and if she has begun to quicken her pace, perhaps it might go unnoticed in the shadows that swallow all.

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

"Lady Ida," is Liath's warm greeting, one made the warmer by her growing smile at Marivel's words. "Think nothing of it. I am sure you shall best me eventually. Regardless... my role here today is little more than observer."

Magilou, hero to all peoples, saves Liath from further (?) embarrassment (??) by plucking seaweed from her hair.

'We can't have your astounding presence ruined by spinach in your teeth!' proclaims Magilou, having saved the day.

"Ah?" wonders Liath wide-eyed, who, then proceeds to open her mouth and prod at her teeth curiously, having failed to even remotey notice the seaweed or her subsequent salvation from its sinister presence.

And thus Liath spends the time down that thin corridor, prodding and tonguing at her teeth, trying to find an imaginary piece of spinach.

"... It hath been more than an age thince I last tried thpinach, though. Ith thith the trick of the trial...?"

Magilou tried her best. Which just goes to show: never try.

Still, the seaweed-freed Seraph somehow manages to still carry on with an utterly, unflappably confident gait (even WHEN she's inelegantly prodding at the tiniest gap between her two front teeth with her tongue, which is truly frightening power) until they reach that carving. She looks upon the text. She finally stops her prodding, if only so that she may frown at the verse she reads.

It's a warning, cryptic even in translated context. She could assist them, and tell them.

"..."

Instead, the Seraph remains silent and carries on, armored hand falling to the pommel of her sword anew.

They reach that long, narrow hallway; Liath's gilded gaze falls on Pearl briefly, head cant at an inquisitive angle for a few silent moments -- but ultimately, perhaps fortunately, whatever the Seraph knows, she does not seem to see fit to act on right now. Instead, she insinuates herself behind them; she watches those red lights. The way the shadows dance. Her frown deepens.

'Liath,' says Marivel. 'Those lights. He's here.'

Within the dark, those gold eyes practically gleam as they narrow. Liath's head dips but once.

"Mm."

And she readies herself.

It comes first from Eleanor, asking a question to the air. Then Zhang, asking that simple but wary question.

It continues, with the dimming of Hiro's smile.

It follows with Rixia's shouting at nothing. The tension in Marivel's shoulders. Azoth's 'visual and audio errors.' Pearl's attempts to explain it.

Ida's clenching jaw. Ratatoskr's lessened grin.

Liath watches them all with a clear eye and a neutral expression.

-We could help them!-

Liath watches her shadow flow from one shadow to the next, as if trying desperately to provide them with some balm as that lone, simple whisper resonates in her thoughts.

"..."

Her gauntleted fingers clench tighter to her sword.

She turns towards the depths, back to the others as they grapple with their problems.

<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

Magilou does not stop Liath from trying to pick the imaginary spinach out of her metaphorical teeth, because, and this is true: it's very funny.

"I'm almost positive that's completely correct," Magilou tells Josephine, on her... let's charitably call it a 'loose' translation of the inscription over Melehan. "But hey! Since you have such a pure heart, you'll be a great sacrifice!" She's smiling, so she's joking, right? Right.

"We'll go to a parfait stall later," Magilou assures Rixia, which might be uncharacteristically kind, by Magilou's standards. Or maybe she just wants all the parfaits to herself. Who knows. "But a Trial like this will be good for you! Gods forbid, you might even learn something," she asides, with a sly grin.

(She grins to Ratatoskr, too. Magilou has room to adopt many people! Just don't make it official; there are certain catches.)

Xiumei's the big winner, asking the question. Say what you will about Magilou -- she has always been willing to answer direct questions, in situations like these. "Just as Azoth says -- audio and visual errors. It should be no surprise we're dealing with illusions in the Darkness Shrine... the shadow takes to them so well."

That she characterises them so easily as illusions reveals something about Magilou, just the same -- but she's never been one to explain.

She copies out the inscription, while everyone else solves the puzzle. What a lazy witch!

Click! The door opens. This is an audio cue, not a visual one; the shadow cast on the wall is absolute. And yet, when one fumbles at the wall, they will find a path through. Gather your faith, and step through absolute darkness.

Into another room, this one lit by wavering lights, just the same. It is a hall of mirrors -- a maze; reflections on the glass catch at the stone walls around the room, and create a winding path.

The Ancient Tongue is inscribed on the far wall: 'Hold hope for the world and for our future.'

The objective is to reach that far wall -- but with a hundred mirrors in the way, the path is obscured by so, so many reflections.

But in those reflections -- every time you ought to look into your eyes -- there's a shadow there, instead. Perhaps it looks much like you; perhaps it is wolfish and hungry; perhaps it is so much more feminine than you are; perhaps it is hulking and horned as a beast. Always it is shadowed, a silhouette of darkness, an impression, vague and unrealised.

(Of course, this effect only rings true between each person and their shadow -- if one were to look to their friends, they'd see their reflections normally, in the flickering light.)

When Magilou steps into the maze of mirrors, she comes face to face with a girl in a witch's hat -- what everyone else would think of as a witch's hat, even, one singular point over a broad, floppy brim. The impression of witch's robes, at the edges of her body, traditional in just the way Magilou's jester's outfit is not.

The Little Witch whispers, to Magilou, and no other: 'When people offer help... they're not just doing it to get close enough to hurt you! Why -- why do you still believe something so cruel? It took so long for you to trust anyone... and even then, you were always brushing them off...!'

Magilou tries not to meet the place where her shadow's gaze would be, as she winds her way through the maze. One hand trails on the mirrors to the left, to keep herself oriented.

The Little Witch appears in the mirror ahead of her, for all the world appearing to stomp her foot:

'Why can't you just accept that people care about you?!'

Magilou sighs, glancing away. "... first that boy tears it out of me, now this," she murmurs, quiet but audible, now she's speaking with her lips and her tongue. "What an agonisingly popular concept."

She doesn't say precisely what that concept is.

<Pose Tracker> Eleanor Klein has posed.

Marivel has no secrets. Of course. Eleanor glances at her. "Is this a regular thing for you guys?' "Yes," Eleanor answers, "You could say that." She smiles at Rixia. It may be reassuring.

 "I'm sure that's how it works," Eleanor says wryly to Josie, who is one of the few members of Odessa she's willing to speak with. In fact, two of them are here, strangely enough--but Eleanor is not focusing on that. The translation from Azoth helps; she focuses on that, when they get to it.

But Ida... Eleanor turns towards her as she hears a voice like hers. "...You don't have to listen," she tells Ida. "If it helps... I'm hearing strange things, too. Can you hear mine?" The smile she gives Ida is a little forced, but she forces it because she cares for her friend. "Mine's telling me I can't trust you, either."

'Maybe especially her. She's unstable you know. Once a Hellion...'

Eleanor's smile wilts perceptibly, despite her best intentions.

But Azoth mentions visual and audio errors, too. "Is it like that for you, too?" she wonders. "I think it's trying to get to us..."

Except--a penguin? Eleanor smiles at Rixia a little more weakly than she would like. "...Right. But... we do have a few secrets," she says to Marivel, and does not notice Liath's shadow trying to comfort her in the moment.

They're all hearing it, Eleanor is certain. And soon she's seeing it. The next translation gives her a smile again. "Hold hope..."

She steps through darkness, and then steps into the reflections. She seees herself, and what she sees above all is this:

Eleanor sees a brown-eyed young elf in her reflection, with a sharp expression.

'It's a nice dream. But you have to stop dreaming. See the world for what it really is. Besides...'

She looks over normal other reflections, and then looks to Magilou, at her murmur. What concept...?

She looks to Ratatoskr, too. "...It's all right," she starts to tell him, and that voice chimes in--

'Wasting sympathy on the enemy. It only takes up valuable energy you should be putting into your responsibilities.'

"Xiu--"

'Xiu, Xiu. Can't you stand on your own?'

<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.

Marivel's ears twitch and she glances to Hiro. Her fingers tense but she only responds to what he says out loud. "Hiro, you'll have to live with the voice anyway." She says it softly enough, only for his ears is the goal but, well, she might be relying a bit on the other whispers being distracting here.

She can't hear Magilou's whispers but she wonders at what she's hearing all the same. Her only clue is what she whispers herself. "I'm sorry." She says. "For his tantrum."

That's how she's treating it at least. She can't argue about this sort of scenario being agonizingly popular. "A trial of patience is still a trial." She remarks wryly--but she doesn't really seem annoyed by it.

It doesn't seem like her Shadow has any more words for her. It intuitively understands that words mean little for Marivel. Instead, on those mirrors, a full hall of them--what does she see?

Anyone can see it. It's not just for Marivel. Such is the power of her Shadow. The one nearest to her brings up a violin into its arms.

It raises a bow in its hand.

And it starts to play.

The secrets of Marivel's heart are in the music. Neither Marivel nor the Shadow are inclined to make it easy. Perhaps in understanding the melody--you can understand her.

The orchestra of Shadow seems to be waiting.

BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W766EABGHe8

Marivel closes her eyes. She exhales once, and continues to walk. Marivel has not been one to avoid music but--

--there is the sense all the same that this is something the Crimson Noble does not share all the same. Something in the sound of that violin.

Something in those players.

"Of course, but my secrets aren't secret." Marivel explains to Eleanor which makes no sense but all the same.

She glances to Liath. Can she understand, she wonders. And is there something she too must seek in the half-heard whispers?

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

"I'll... I'll be fine," Xiumei says to Marivel. She does glance back at Rixia, staring for a second at the question about penguins. Her expression is distracted. She looks at Azoth, then, and stares when she gets a look at his shadow. One that looks nothing like him. Something closer to a monster of legend than person, too, yet also a machine. She stares for a moment longer.

"I think we're all getting visual errors, Azoth," she says. "It's... definitely doing something."

She glances back at Liath -- wondering for a moment. But, no words come to her; from Liath, or from the Seraph's shadow. Her expression falls, as she looks forward, and then she closes her eyes. They glow lightly through her eyelids.

Xiumei's own shadow seems mundane, at first: like her. Except there are little differences; she isn't in armor, but the outline of a jacket and skirt, like she often wears. Her hair is pulled back and -- unlike how she normally wears it -- pinned up. She has glasses on, too, and the way the glasses have a strange cast as a shadow.

She opens her eyes and nods to Magilou, then steps forward -- and to the next room.

Xiumei finds herself face-to-face with a mirror. The face that looks back at her is her own, but without her armor on. Her eyes are the plainer, duller green; her purple hair is pinned up. She wears a long skirt, a jacket over a shirt, with a tie tucked underneath it. Xiumei stares at the reflection.

The reflection speaks. Aloud, this time. "You might not make them worry. You might not make them look at you. You hate it when people look at you, don't you?"

Xiumei flinches. "I--"

"Even if they're not worried about you, you think they're worried about you. Is there any difference, really?"

She looks away, quickly.

Then she looks sideways at Eleanor. She opens her mouth -- and then takes her hand, and shakes her head. It's firm. "Don't--don't listen, Nora," she says. Her voice isn't firm. "It's just... this place, making us hear things. And telling us things. It's..."

She bites her lip, while she hears violing music playing. "...It'll be fine."

<Pose Tracker> Rixia has posed.

"Just ignore them...? Geez, you've got a will of iron. Well, I'll try," Rixia muses to Pearl, sighing ever so faintly... but then she pauses as Magilou tells her she'll take her to a parfait stand later. Besides, the shrine'll do her some good. Maybe she'll learn something!

...

...

She almost wants to believe. That almost sounded like something... a caring parent would say...

...

...

But she can't just assume and impose herself on someone else's life, or they'll... just leave her again. Just like dad.

They've next come onto a maze of mirrors, and Rixia's sort of on edge because she's anticipating it to play with her once again. And indeed--

There's a Ronso girl with white-pink hair, in fashionable Spiran garb (or what Rixia imagines Spiran garb must be like), looking healthy and loved and doted upon, with a round cuddly penguin at her side. She's holding a whipped cream strawberrry and raspberry parfait, and has nice accessories adorning her: two moogle charms, a cactuar hair clip, and big fluffy ribbons on her hair. Her nails are CUTE and PAINTED with sparkly stones.

"... well, you look tacky," Rixia folds her arms and tries to look away, but it's hard to look away from the illusion when there's a hundred mirrors around them.

'Haaa-h? I look tacky? Just look at you! You lapped up scraps from the first person to offer them! Do you think Mister Leo and Miss Hilde and Miss Kaguya really care? Or are they just using you to try to assuage their guilt for what happened in Spira?'

Rixia is silent for a moment longer, frowning as she grumbles to Eleanor, "This trial is starting to really annoy me--"

Fashionista-Ronso-Rixia walks by on the other side and takes a BIG JUICY SPOONFUL of raspberry parfait. 'Mmmm. You know what that tastes like? It tastes like being LOVED. My mommy and daddy love me very much, because I'm a Ronso, because I'm theirs, not some scraggy girl who clung onto his coattails and never let go and became a big burden to them.'

"W-whatever..." Rixia whines.

'I mean, just look at you. You're already clinging hope to Magilou caring for you just because she'd take you to a parfait stand. Because she picked you up from a war zone. But do you think someone so important and busy as her has time for someone like you? You don't, don't you?' Fashionista-Rixia makes a heart with both her thumb and index fingers and blows a kiss. 'Oh, just look at the gaping hole in your own heart, girl~~ <3'

"W-whatever, whatever! Whatever! Ugh, this sucks!" Rixia whines loudly, tears in her eyes as she starts stomping forward without care of where she's going.

<Pose Tracker> Hiro has posed.

 
BGM Change - Fear of the Dark - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gbRZjAgfsdo
 
Hiro glances towards Marivel, then closes his eyes... "Guess I will at that." Before he opens his eyes and keeps walking.
 
Whisperlight, the hands of his shadow change, moth like where the thumbs join... the shadow gives the illusion of landing upon his forehead... unnoticed...
 
"Are you sure you really couldn't have arrived there already? Did you really try every avenue?"
 
"Yes." Hiro answers tersely to noone in particular. As he works at the puzzle ahead while Magilou lazes about.
 
"Five years! Such a long time. For something that was such a short hop from Meribia - from Azado."
 
The moth's wings transform as the hands of the shadow shift into something feline... as Hiro sets his jaw and his pace shifts subtly into the hall of mirrors.
 
"When Ghaleon announced Althena was erecting a barrier... you were secretly relieved weren't you?"
 
"Of course not." He whispers, reflexively. As he tries not to look at the mirrors.
 
"Because another delay... meant that your journey was extended - again - and again. Exactly as you've always wanted. You said it yourself... you wish this adventure would never end."
 
The mere suggestion that he's emotionally invested in sabotaging the mission causes a small spasm on his features as finally the shadow catches his eyes.
 
"All the better for them to stay with you. All the longer that they will need you."
 
The shadow is entirely in synch with him at that moment. It's just him he sees in the mirror.
 
"You're wrong... about everything." Hiro says... and perhaps he's not even wrong when he says that. Though perhaps... there's just enough truth in some distant corner of his heart that it's able to dig under his skin. Latch on.
 
"Such a good little boy you are. Just like you were brought up. So ready to deny - to sacrifice even the smallest selfishness... on the altar of 'someone else'."
 
Hiro turns and avoids looking at the mirrors again, trying to follow Liath's brilliance... and Magilou's reflection...
 

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

"I hope they choke on it," Josie says cheerfully enough regarding her heart, without missing a beat.

"See! I was close," she says to Azoth, as if she hadn't just been wildly off the mark.

There are lights, within, and they are met by a host of mirrors.

"...'our'... 'future'," Josie mutters, managing to actually prise free a couple words in the Ancient tongue after a few moments of staring. "...Well, if that ain't half the problem. Right, looks like there's a door over yonder," she says, pointing, before starting to head in that particular direction. But was that the door she saw, or merely a--

Reflection. It's not the only one.
Josie's own reflection wears a long swirling skirt, swept about by some unseen wind. Even the sleeves and bodice of the fine gown her image has claimed for itself are altogether decidedly feminine and impractical, something illsuited for delving into dungeons or excavating ruins or attempting to blow up trains.

'You've never been much good at admitting what you want, have you? Even when you left home, you were still hoping you were wrong. But you never told anyone. Not even your sister. All this time, when you've been roaming around...'

Josie turns sharply, as if to move herself right along. Her image doesn't let her escape, keeping pace with her easily, of course.

'All this time...'

"Shut up," Josie hisses under her breath, as if knowing what is to come.

'You just wanted your father to smile at you, right?

That the next moment is interrupted by the sound of a loud BANG and the tinkle of shattering glass might speak something itself about how Josie feels about this particular comment from her image.

It also doesn't solve much of anything. Look, there is again her reflection and her reflection and her reflection--

'All you want is to go home again.'

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

"It was very close!" Azoth tells Josephine. He'll support this reality. Why not!

Azoth smiles brightly at Eleanor. "Yep, seem so. Mine's on the quiet side, though. Maybe I'm just too mysterious for the shadows to tease."

His provocation fails to earn him a response.

For a robot that glows whenever he does anything halfway involving effort, Azoth finds none of his light cuts through the shadow here. It's as if it's swallowed after the inch past his face. Yet the loom of his shadow is constant in his perceptions. The silence is not because the power he cannot touch him. It demonstratively is.

As Xiumei, too, can see. He looks from her to the shadow and back again, knowing she sees it, and all he can do is smile weakly. Anyone else who sees it may notice the silhouette does not even resemble Azoth when he works for Solaris. There is more to it than that. It's more beastly along the scale, and with more plating and a solid form instead of a broken, skeletal one. That much is apparent, even obscured in shadow.

(As the move on, he continues to provide subtitles for these translations. It helps if everyone can see and reread it easily, right? Helping!)

The mirrors stare back, and while no one can see what it is he's staring at, he's looking up at his, rather than straight across. Silence. And Azoth knows why. Of course he knows why. Without this little mission of his, without the overrides demanding his hunt on the surface, demanding he play nice, demanding a social persona to optimize his ability to work with others...

They want to save him. They want to rid him of them.

But they won't like what they find on the other side of it.

Because they won't find anyone.

...

And what about hope? All emotion leaves Azoth's face and posture: he becomes too still, too blank, and too empty. "State objective," he says to his shadow. Fine. He'll play

'ERROR: objective data damaged. Memory corrupted. Unable to process request.'

"Run search for term '3.464i'."

'3.464i equals -11.999296.'

"Round to the nearest integer."

'ERROR: -11.999296 is not -12.'

"...No. It isn't."

<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.

Ratatoskr's presence catches a lot of people off-guard, it's true. When even many of the Odessa regulars aren't keen on interacting with Ratatoskr any more than is baseline necessary, his presence is the perfect ambusher.
 
  He nearly jumps at the click of the door opening, as if... the door were an even greater ambusher, even though he has heard similar sounds countless times by now. No matter the light of his eyes, he can't pierce the veil of nothingness. Only his feet can, until he comes across halls of reflective surfaces playing with what few light sources there are.
 
  The segmented plating of his largely squirrel-like tail start to flare out in agitation. There's a momentary rattling sound attached to it that the vast majority of the gathered cannot hear. Ratatoskr's lineage was designed to be both rapid attacking ambushers and battlefield messengers alike, and the sound that tail can make was meant to be only able to be heard by other Hyadeans - other Metal Demons - in case the usual means of communication were disabled.
 
  Magilou's murmuring has him looking away from the mirrors towards the gathered - and working on continuing to enscribe what is shared and seen with help from Azoth's translations. There's Eleanor's reassurance(?) that 'it's all right' after a pause. He doesn't look ahead, for some time, mistaking her concern as a reason to get him to not look. He's looking at everyone else, their (perfectly normal) reflections, their murmuring.
 
  It's only when he runs out of any excuse to distract himself with the others, what they're saying, what they're doing... when he catches the sight of dull quicksilver along a vanquished, broken, forgotten soldier of his lineage.
 
  Himself, as he 'should' have been left on the Photosphere by any measure from those less forgiving of the transgressions of the Metal Demons... when Talise, Ida, and Layna had overcome him.
 
  'You're not part of their lives.'
 
  The Hyadean young man is motionless.

<Pose Tracker> Pearl has posed.

Well. Liath stands behind her. Unhelpful. Well, at least she'll be positioned to counterattack. The rest of their talking doesn't help her. "...Will every shrine test us on whether or not we will sacrifice?" Pearl asks, a little confused. "Do they expect the trials to change our mind?" ...Says Pearl, who nearly sacrificed herself.

Her ear twitches at Parfait, but no, that's for after the trial. Not to talk. She walks into view of the mirrors and the girl in the mirror is all but unrecognizable.

She has a small scar on her forehead, and the girl in the in the mirror shares her silver hair and and grey eyes, but without the wounds her face looks almost... conventionally pretty. She's wearing light training clothes, and over that, an apron. Pearl, despite herself, stops in her tracks. A will of iron indeed, huh.

"Look, why don't you come home? Once you're done with Sin, at least. Even Jean said you could stop. You still like food, right? You could go back to the restaurant, if it's still there. It's not fair to you to keep throwing yourself into the meatgrinder to atone. There's a point where you're allowed to stop, y'know!" She points at Pearl, and would be jabbing her finger into her chest."You're allowed the things you didn't have back then. And it'll be harder without them! At least think about what you're going to do after the fighting, mo luk!"

Pearl shakes her head. "I will not have time to think about the future until the problems of the present are resolved." She answers back, her efforts of ignoring seemingly failed. She walks forward again. She looks back at Ratatoskr. Forward at others. Their visions seem much crueler than this girl.

"Then it's too late! You need something to look forward to if you want to try to survive!" The mirror Pearl, her hair in ornate ring braids she couldn't easily do herself whacks the back of the mirror with her hand. "Like it or not, people are making a place for you in this world! Least you could do is do the same for them! Gah!"

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

Ida's shadow looms behind her. Its posture is tight with tension, and as Ida hears that 'click' of the unlocking door, it chuckles. The sound is just as tight, and laced with both weariness and an almost manic desperation. She glances around, and sees the others' shadowed faces. Illusions, Magilou says, and it makes sense.

Idiot girl. Why are you so quick to trust her, after everything she's done to you? Are you a masochist?

"Of course," Ida asides to Eleanor. "Everything we've hidden, everything we've kept secret..." Her face twists as she looks at Eleanor, but she can't muster a retort. She wants to. She had to listen to this every single day, and still does, when things get bad.

Liath's shadow brushes against Ida's, and it whirls, raising its fists in a pantomimed scream of rage. 'I don't need your help!' it roars, or would, if it had a voice. It's a silent parody of its owner. The rage gives way to a gentle pirouette as it moves in time with the violin.

Go on. Prove her right. You know what will happen if you keep it bottled up, don't you? You miss it. How easily you turned on them.

"These are my thoughts," Ida whispers. "They are not wrong. They are not wicked. They simply are."

She steps forwards, across the threshold...

And there to greet her is her shadow, huge and wild-haired, beckoning for her to follow. Ida moves, and it's not clear from the outside which of them is leading. A sad, broken automaton. A young man so neck-deep in idealism he can't see how damaged you are. Two convenient surrogates for Sylvie and Edward, whom you ran from. Three people you can't even bring yourself to trust. Two whom you barely know. And the last--you're so desperate for her to declare you good.

As the shadow moves, it changes shape: first to a young Ida in a dress, with a long braid, then to an Ida who is ragged and emaciated. Then, to an Ida(?) that's taller, but not like her Hellion self. This one's wearing armor, or maybe is armor.

You still haven't found it. Everything you think you've won is superficial--just like y--

The shadow is suddenly Ida again, regular Ida, but it dangles like a puppet held up by a single string.

A string mounted to its right shoulder. Shadow boils out of its back, forming a second shape. Ida's shadow's arm becomes the right arm of a second figure, roughly the same height.

Why do you keep going? Everyone's gone, just like he said. Why do you keep hurting yourself like this? Do you think it'll bring them back? She was lying.

That voice is faint, barely a breathy whisper. Ratatoskr hears it just fine, though, as does Ida herself.

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

Is there something Liath too must seek in these half-heard whispers?

The rainbow of dancing lights surrounding Liath alight a thousand thousand reflections of glass as she enters a winding maze of mirrors. The echo of her heel cracking the stony ground reverberates far into the labyrinthine depths of self-reflection as she looks past them, as best she can.

Behind her, she listens to the others speak. To those voices of shadow that can be heard. How could she ever not listen?

But Liath carries on steadfast, without the balm of an offered hand or offered word to assist any of them in the troubles that grip them.

But she carries on. She can see it, clear as day. Each and every one of them grapple with something whether they admit it or not. Some more obvious, some louder than others. None any less in need than the next.

But she carries on. She can see the way her reflection follows after her, and then rushes past her from one mirror to the next. The silhouette is no different from hers. It's just a reflection.

But surrounding it are throngs of people it guides happily. Some of them have the vague silhouette of those in this room. Some are indistinct. Some are people long, long dead.

They all need to be saved. They all need to be protected. They all need to be helped.

She can hear the melancholy of Marivel's violin, painting a portrait clear as day with every note. Doesn't she need someone to understand what she's going through?

She can hear Zhang grappling with her insecurity. Doesn't she need someone to show her she's strong?

She sees Hiro denying a deep-seated desire. Doesn't he need to know that it doesn't make him any lesser?

She hears glass shatter in Josephine's impulsive rage. Doesn't she need to know she can always find a way home?

Don't they all need help?

They're all hurting.
So much.
All in their own, unique way.

-They need us!-

Liath pauses, briefly. Her gloved hand rises to clench at her chest as she lets out a single exhale. But she carries on.

Because there's nothing she should ever seek in these half-hearted whispers.


The mood here sucks, Rixia thinks, and it's really no one'se fault. Everyone's kinda suffering their own baggage, their own garbage. It doesn't look like anyone's taking this in stride, and it just makes her wonder why ANYONE bothers to come here. Is this what that fancy thing called 'therapy' people with money can afford is like?

(Maybe. No. Not really. Actually, maybe.)

Josie just SMASHING the glass gets her to jolt, like as if she's not already enough on edge. "blgg," she noises to herself. She's staying away from the meat of the crowd in part because she's kinda jealous at the way Eleanor and Xiumei seem to be able to help each other through it. Even that pink squirrel-looking warrior's got someone to cheer him up! She feels lonely, and she knows the trial's just going to prey on that...

She squints as the light burns, and they come onto another hallway. A long, long hallway where...

A presence... awaits them. A hellish hound of darkness, crimson eyes burning in its head...

"Ohhhh geez, this double sucks! Aaaaah!" Rixia starts running rather than fight, so she doesn't even understand that she can't harm the beast. She whimpers loudly, not even realising that her shadow is cast long and hard...

(BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmrUDOnbWNA )

... a shadow that spreads wings and horns as it coalesces into being. The very echo of possibility, the pinnacle of potential within her mind...

Maybe it is a bird, with its majestic feathered bat-wings.
Maybe it is a demon, with sharp blades jutting out of its elbows.
Maybe it is a lion, with its feline guise, a full mane of beautiful white fur.

Rixia sort of stumbles as she stares at the shadow that's emerged from within. What the heck is going on?! Is this her shadow, is--

>> ... ... ...

The creature glances backwards -- but not at her, but rather through her. It speaks to a presence that hasn't even manifested at the moment. 'Are you not tired of playing the part of the sleeping lion? An intangible beast, ever restrained, ever subservient to such fools... first the Nedeans... then the Federation... and now this girl...'

>> audio-visual tampering detected...
>> detecting possible corruption in memory stack
>> shutting down... enabling self-diagnostic checks...

The creature then turns to the Shadowhound.

'Enough. Now... you shall bleed...'

And descend it does, the lion of infinite possibility against the hound of darkness, fangs and claws bared bloody and fresh.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Xiumei apologizes. Azoth smiles at her, purposely faint to communicate her intuition isn't incorrect. "O-Oh, I'm just trying to see what I can find. There's no need to worry about me."

A half truth. The temptation is there to provoke more from the mirrors and the shadow. It would prove something if he got a response. Wouldn't it? It wouldn't. The ensorcelled energy here is reflecting off of all of them. Eventually, it shows him something because he wants to see it, or is afraid he will. Not because it is. The nothingness is the truth.

Magilou calls out to them, and Azoth turns away from the mirror, that cheerful demeanor snapped right back on as he practically frolicks after her. "Coming~!" As he passes by Ratatoskr, he slows a little, giving a fainter smile. Seeing someone else shut down like that when they aren't made of gears and wires... It's too much. "Hey, hey... We can fight again later, once we're out of here. Something to look forward to?" Not knowing the heart of what's going on with him, that's all Azoth thinks he has to offer.

But off they go. Live without hesitation, says the next room, and so do Azoth's subtitles. And that one's easy, he thinks, he hopes, until he realizes it has no meaning when he's programmed not to hesitate. This proves true when the Shadowhound arrives and he does not hesitate to flee with the others.

The Little Witch's faith is not misplaced in Azoth's shadow: visible now and though not to the scale it should be, still allowing reality to let it fit within the shrine. But it towers over everyone as much as is reasonable within the space they share, armor white instead of black, body alight in bright blue and brilliant fuchsia, some of its pieces crafted of this hard light instead of physical. None of that is surprising for Azoth except the one detail he understands that no one else could be privy to: the damaged hole sparking at the construct's chest is where there used to a cockpit... one that must have been ripped out.

Once it has a clear shot, a massive beam of light fires through the hall at the Shadowhounds, filling it entirely with its crackling, overkill energy because this thing being here at all is bringing a gun to a knife fight. (But the nature of the shrine means it isn't as effective as it looks like it should be. That's probably a good thing.) Azoth grins nervously at no one in particular, ducking and covering his head like he's taking shelter from the shadow's attack. "Whoooa, distorted illusions reeeeeally makes things super weird huh!"

This bluff won't work if everyone else feels more or less in line with their shadow selves on an aesthetic level.

But do they? Azoth looks over the other shadows that join the fight. Warped versions of themselves, but ones sprinkled with truisms. Things he shouldn't be seeing, but can't help devouring the data of as he paints pictures of those around him. And -- "Varius?"

That's not supposed to be Varius' objective... And the way he's fighting...

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

Is there something Liath too must seek in these half-heard whispers?

The rainbow of dancing lights surrounding Liath alight a thousand thousand reflections of glass as she enters a winding maze of mirrors. The echo of her heel cracking the stony ground reverberates far into the labyrinthine depths of self-reflection as she looks past them, as best she can.

Behind her, she listens to the others speak. To those voices of shadow that can be heard. How could she ever not listen?

But Liath carries on steadfast, without the balm of an offered hand or offered word to assist any of them in the troubles that grip them.

But she carries on. She can see it, clear as day. Each and every one of them grapple with something whether they admit it or not. Some more obvious, some louder than others. None any less in need than the next.

But she carries on. She can see the way her reflection follows after her, and then rushes past her from one mirror to the next. The silhouette is no different from hers. It's just a reflection.

But surrounding it are throngs of people it guides happily. Some of them have the vague silhouette of those in this room. Some are indistinct. Some are people long, long dead.

They all need to be saved. They all need to be protected. They all need to be helped.

She can hear the melancholy of Marivel's violin, painting a portrait clear as day with every note. Doesn't she need someone to understand what she's going through?

She can hear Zhang grappling with her insecurity. Doesn't she need someone to show her she's strong?

She sees Hiro denying a deep-seated desire. Doesn't he need to know that it doesn't make him any lesser?

She hears glass shatter in Josephine's impulsive rage. Doesn't she need to know she can always find a way home?

Don't they all need help?

They're all hurting.
So much.
All in their own, unique way.

-They need us!-

Liath pauses, briefly. Her gloved hand rises to clench at her chest as she lets out a single exhale. But she carries on.

Because there's nothing she should ever seek in these half-hearted whispers.

<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

When Azoth translates the panel, Magilou laughs, to herself. She does not explain.

"It sure does!" Magilou answers Rixia's cry about how much this sucks.

BANG, BANG, retort the obscene echoes of a gun fired indoors. It rings in the ears, reverberates through the mirrors. "That won't work," Magilou calls, over to Josephine -- sounding, if anything, a shade bored. "You can't escape a trap like this with wanton destruction. You'll just exhaust yourself... that's when the real trouble starts."

'There you go again! You think I'm like him?! I really, REALLY just want to help you! Going through the world believing there's no safety... it's sad! Fighting for yourself all the time is SAD! Why can't you see how much power there is in just opening your heart up?!'

"Oh, I'm sure it's quite powerful," Magilou mutters, darkly. "For someone, anyway."

But even if she doesn't know what everyone is being tormented with -- she can recognise very well that everyone is being tormented. Eleanor's haltingness, the way Xiumei is flinching --

She claps a hand on Ratatoskr's shoulder, as she passes -- recognises the signs of someone freezing up, even if she doesn't see the cause. "Hey!" She raises her voice, over the maze. "Get the spinach out of your teeth later, would you? Stop gawking at yourselves and get a move on, or I'm leaving you behind!"

She's calling out those obnoxious put-downs until she fumbles her way to the exit.

'Liar,' the Little Witch accuses her, grumpily, in the final mirror. Magilou ignores her, and heads on through another of those entryways entirely shadowed by the framing of the lights around them.

Once more, step into darkness. And through --

This next room -- more a corridor, really -- is framed by two square pillars, in its entryway. The Ancient Tongue is carved, twice, on each pillar: 'Live without hesitation.'

Stepping through them, there is a PRESENCE, behind you all, different entirely to the shadows that have followed you. From the darkness of the entryway steps -- or perhaps forms -- a hellish hound of darkness, crimson eyes burning in its indistinguishable head. Attempts to fight it will reveal that it is shadow true -- hands pass through it, with a chill feeling, as do weapons. It cannot be touched.

Not by you.

After that moment of intimidation, the Shadowhound howls, and gives chase! Surely everyone is familiar with challenges to one's agility by now; the object of this room is simply to get to the other end of that long, long hall. A light burns, at the end. It shines, and casts deep shadows, down the hall, back towards the beast pursuing.

There is a world where you were not the person you are, today.

There is the echo of possibility, what could have been, all lost to obscurity and to choice.

What powers did you leave behind, in the darkness?

Cast by such a bright light, some of those shadows may even be visible to everyone's eyes -- though some are still obscured. Looking back, for instance, it is plain for anyone to see the Little Witch cast off of Magilou, younger and cutting a much more traditional silhouette.

The way that shadow turns to face the Hound -- and holds up something which might be a rod or a wand, all suggested by straight lines and a singular grasp. She can even be heard, with that earnest voice, as she incants:

'Shine! Light of generational talent! My magic is magic which can help EVERYONE!'

They are not doves. A girl like this never had to make her magic into friends, when she was all alone. Never had to shape the Blessing into a conjuring -- never had to lock it into a sparkling display of performance and frivolity in order to appease a savage crowd.

The starlight which shines down and forms a barrier for the Hound to throw itself against was never scarred by a world where everyone who helped the Little Witch did so with a dagger hidden in their other hand. It shines, brightly, and casts the shadows in even brighter skew.

Even so, the Hound is vicious; even so, the Little Witch has faith that the others will come to help her.

What will those shadows do, to turn the Shadowhound aside? How do they solve this problem?

<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.

Marivel gives Ratatoskr a small bap on the shoulder. "C'mon, where's your usual energy?" She obviously can't hear what he's getting but she can tell something's off. His status as an Odessa agent isn't one she holds against him in the Shadows... After all.

Only Marivel: You and Irving built Odessa and they're fulfilling their purpose well.

And yet still the music plays, the truth in her heart that cannot be denied in this place, under these magicks.

Maybe it's her responsibility this time. It's surely only this bad because...

Josie shoots an image and she looks at her numbly. As she told Hiro--the voice is going to leave with Josie no matter how often she shoots at it here. It eats bullets for breakfast.

The shadow orchestra's instruments shift. A singer is added though singer is putting it a bit awkwardly as there are no words sung, just notes hummed, echoing across the Shadow Shrine like a haunting ghost.

BGM SHIFT: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0Vlp_veGXg

It's still melancholic, but with a more forceful push behind it. It's clearly searching for something.

SUDDENLY A DOG. "SHIT!" Marivel turns into a bat and flutters over to Liath's shoulder because she's perfectly comfortable with cheating. Also it's a dog and she is a dog person. "Aggghh it's gotta be a good boy, right? Right??"

Maybe not a good boy.

The shadows sing, perhaps attempting to lull the Shadowhound to sleep with the soft humming melody.

"Every day we adventured together," Marivel murmurs. "She was either singing or humming. I always feel terrible that so few remain that can recall the sound of that voice. Blasphemous it might be now, in the darkness like this..."

"No. In the Capital D Darkness... Sometimes a song is all we had."

"That's all." She adds.

No other words for now. She remains apart from the Shadow Orchestra. For now.

<Pose Tracker> Eleanor Klein has posed.

"Xiu," Eleanor says then, "You're... you're right. You don't listen either, all right? We're here together." She hears Marivel's music, looks to her as she mentions her secrets. "Marivel..." She knows what she means. Some of it, at least. She knows that much. But she looks back to Xiumei, and squeezes her hand, continuing to look at her for a moment. Did she hear...? "I'm glad you're here."

She looks back to Azoth. "You think so?" she wonders, of his being too mysterious. She wants to tell him she's sure that's all it is, but her face falls. It could be any number of things, instead. It could just not be compatible with his nature...

But is that it?

"!" Glass shatters. Josie is there, and Eleanor startles. "Did something happen?" she asks, and then realizes--it must be the visions. ...This is what it's like, for the others. They must all be saying very different things. So she looks over the others, thoughtfully. She looks over Pearl, frowning, as she answers about the future. She doesn't see Pearl's mirror self. "Pearl...?"

Then Ratatoskr. Unmoving. "Hey," Eleanor says. "Come on, stay with us." But she can already hear what the 'other' her would say. She's already said it. So she doesn't repeat herself.

'This doesn't become a leader, Eleanor.'

Magilou has them handled on encouragement. In her way. Eleanor doesn't quite have the heart to follow it up further. She continues along. Two square pillars, and the sign she already expects Azoth to translate for them. Eleanor stares, for a moment--before-

The presence. Eleanor's eyes widen, and she immediately turns towards it--but instinctively knows something about it. It gives chase, and Eleanor grabs for Xiu's hand and runs, her anklet gleaming for an instant as its agility floods through her.

But the barrier that the Little Witch throws gives her a moment. In that space, there is a working.

A brown-eyed elf with a sharp expression and a golden band on her left hand steps out of the shadows, towards the Hounds. "Hmph." She lifts a rod, and begins to intone spells. "Frigid heart of the snowfields, obey my commands and drown the very fires of Hell! Epochal Ice!"

The other Eleanor extends her hand, and power shoots forth from it, ice on a level that our Eleanor cannot hope to muster. Her brown eyes gleam in the light, her expression harsh and her outfit befitting a noblewoman.

Eleanor herself turns, and takes advantage of the opening to fire her gun on the Hound facing down Xiumei.

'Even our husband could face a monster like that. Where's a real challenge?'

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

"Right... right, I won't listen," Xiumei says to Eleanor. She looks at her, for a moment longer.

Xiumei smiles, apologetically, to Azoth. It's not something she was meant to see. It's not something that Azoth meant to share. She wants to say that she could ignore it, but this place has a way of making sure she ends up noticing.

She falls quiet, when Azoth speaks to his shadow. Normally, she would turn to Varius and Avile. She would ask what they understand -- what they know -- about his situation, about what it might mean.

But they're silent, and in the wake of her shadow staring back at her, she is left at an utter loss. "Azoth... I'm sorry. I--"

A moment's hesitation. Then she yelps, when Josie fires a gunshot into the mirror.

And the moment passes. Magilou calls for them to move on. She looks at Azoth, silent and worried, as she keeps walking.

"It's easier to worry about someone else than admit you don't want to worry people."

Xiumei looks down, her shoulders tensing. Then, she keeps walking.

The baying of the shadowhound makes Xiumei tense. She looks at her shadow -- walking after her -- and she shakes her head. She is just a clerk; a woman with a ledger and glasses, who stopped exercising as much. A woman who has no business being in the middle of a darkened ruin on another world. The way she would have defeated this, simply, is that she would never be here.

And then she vanishes, because Xiumei carries other shadows with her.

A blast of frost flies at the Shadowhound. A massive spell; one Eleanor couldn't do. Xiumei turns her head, staring at Eleanor. Her--her husband? "Nora--it's not--"

Her shadow deepens.

At first, one might think the shadow that appears is hers. But the armor is different; less mismatched, white and green armor, and around a frame with broader shoulders and that stands taller. The hair that spills out of the helmet -- not an armored circlet, but a helmet -- is golden blonde, and pulled back into a ponytail.

"When did you get so weak?" Varius asks Xiumei--no, not Xiumei. He looks at her body, but not at her. "Look at you. You're letting a fucking elf lead a bunch of humans into a ruin. You're letting toddlers guide infants, Varius. Dumbass."

He turns the rest of his head. It leaves the shadows -- and a ruined half of his face shows, where the flesh is burnt away to a mechanical skeleton underneath. The eye gleams, red light shining through it. "Stop playing grab-ass with your dead girlfriend's ghost, stop caring about a heartbeat, and finish helping the Metal Demons make sure Filgaia dies. Time to remember that you're good for one thing. Watch."

Varius turns towards the Shadowhound--no, one of them. One seems to split off for him. He makes his hand cannon appear, spinning it like a gunslinger, and he fires two shots. They blow through the forelegs of the hound -- and it drops, hitting the ground with its body. It turns, hindlegs scrambling to get away. The Reploid leaps -- and then slashes out with his Pulse Saber, which just appears -- and cuts both of its legs away. It hits the ground with a whine.

He slams a foot onto its back, grabs it by the head, and looks down at it with a rictus grin.

He dismisses his saber. He grabs the creature, one hand around the top of its snout -- one around the bottom -- and the Shadowhound whimpers.

He grabs, and he TEARS, and it begins to split messily down the middle with a canine screech and a terrible, fleshy rip--

And Xiumei screams, running ahead of Eleanor. She stumbles, pushes herself up with a hand, and scrambles down the hallway. Varius laughs as the other Shadowhound lopes past him, his laughter echoing, while shadow drips from his hands and splashes on the ground.

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

"It's fine," Josie tells Eleanor, tightlipped. It's not fine.

There's no response from Josie towards Magilou or Marivel save for the low growl that escapes her lips; however, neither does she attempt such again. After all, it's already clear as day, isn't it -- wherever she might go, her reflection keeps perfect pace with her, flitting from silver to silver to meet her each time.

'You want to go back. Don't you?'

"You'n me both know that ain't possible. I ain't done. And even if I were--"

Her reflection only smiles sadly at her. 'You were always doing it for yourself. No one else.'

Josie grips her ARM tightly, but it doesn't leave her side or point anywhere but at the floor. "...Tch," she tells her image. "You know that ain't true."

'...Ain't it?' To that, Josie does not respond.

Through the door, then. Through the door and into the chamber and towards the other side. Shadows follow after and shadows await before.

"!"

There is another report of ARMfire. But one bullet slices through the shadowstuff of the hound. But, it is only shadow, and one cannot fight a shadow thus. "..."

'Here, boy! Over here!' calls out Josie's shadow, advancing towards the hound, tall and unafraid. 'They can get so upset when they're hungry. Or maybe he needs to burn that energy of with a little play first...? Sometimes you have to think about your problem instead of blundering your way through.' Josie's shadow shrugs, then pulls forth what looks like a... bone. 'Leave this one to me!'

Josie, taking advantage of the moment, runs for it.

<Pose Tracker> Pearl has posed.

The shattered glass is a distraction. But Eleanor asking her... "It's not your concern, Miss Klein." Magilou has Ratatoskr in hand, before the moves the door.The hairs on the back of Pearl's neck stand on end, as she senses threat before the door is open. She moves to strike, and can't. Her hand passes through. But it can hurt HER. It can hurt all of them. "Keep your distance!" She shouts back, leaping out of the way and pulling out her grapnel to dart around. She hates being helpless like this. But it would be fitting to die torn apart by a shadowy wolf.

"Heh! Fine, time to show you what mom taught me!" Pearl's shadow rushes forward, and launches into the air, before a diving kick towards the beasts head, and sliding to the ground, before launching a flurry of punches. Pearl can hear her fists impact five times in a second. What style is this? She doesn't remember hearing about it it in the Horam region. "Tsk, does something like this even HAVE pressure points? Screw it!" She suddenly arcs into equally sudden kicks, making up for a lighter build with rapid strikes.

This style would have suited Pearl, early on. Played to her strengths. She can only learn so much from a shadow but she is transfixed for a few seconds. What was that? Had Lunn destroyed it?

"Oh well, if it's no challenge for you, I'm gonna hang with the kiddo over here." For all her talk, Pearl's shadow doesn't actually stop fighting. But she does take opportunities to catch her breath provided by the other fighters. "Tsk, whole buncha jerks here." She mutters.

<Pose Tracker> Hiro has posed.

 
Hiro tries to ignore it. He knows they're all going through something similar. Why is he being so self-absorbed in a moment like this??? Hiro hears Magilou's words over Josie's gunshots and tries to look to Pearl, "Even if you feel like you have to put it off... it's a future we want you to be a part of, you know?"
 
The shadow however is relentless. "You've been doing it for so long! Since the very start. ... at first sight wasn't it? Just like in all the storybooks you enjoyed growing up."
 
The shadows form a heart that seems subtly off, not rounded in its curves, but angled in the joints of its shadowy fingertips. He keeps moving, fleeding.
 
"You were so small, beneath her notice and she... she was invincible. Until she wasn't. What a relief that was! Because now... now you had an excuse." "I didn't want that." Hiro can't fail to respond, horrified at the idea of himself being relieved that Zophar stripped Lucia of so much. When the Shadow Hound appears, it's a relief, as he quickly draws a Boomerang and flings it at it. It passes through it, clattering in the dark. He starts to run... to get to the end of the hall. It's unclear if he's truly running from the Hound. "Ruby said you wouldn't be so quick to trade your freedom... but was that really true?"
 
... what did he leave behind in the darkness?
 
The shadow splits off of him. It still has a sword, but the armor is subtly different a few people in particular might recognize it simply by its shape. "Just another day in her service..." Without hesitation, the shadow darts and merges as if it were trying to skewer it.
 
What message is it trying to send to him...?
 
... well... by the horrified look on his face, he understands. And closes his eyes to try and wipe it clean from his mind then looks to Marivel in her silence... "Maybe we'll get to hear it again soon. Sometimes all it takes is a reminder." He says not expecting a response. He turns away from his shadow... and keeps moving.

<Pose Tracker> Rixia has posed.

The mood here sucks, Rixia thinks, and it's really no one'se fault. Everyone's kinda suffering their own baggage, their own garbage. It doesn't look like anyone's taking this in stride, and it just makes her wonder why ANYONE bothers to come here. Is this what that fancy thing called 'therapy' people with money can afford is like?

(Maybe. No. Not really. Actually, maybe.)

Josie just SMASHING the glass gets her to jolt, like as if she's not already enough on edge. "blgg," she noises to herself. She's staying away from the meat of the crowd in part because she's kinda jealous at the way Eleanor and Xiumei seem to be able to help each other through it. Even that pink squirrel-looking warrior's got someone to cheer him up! She feels lonely, and she knows the trial's just going to prey on that...

She squints as the light burns, and they come onto another hallway. A long, long hallway where...

A presence... awaits them. A hellish hound of darkness, crimson eyes burning in its head...

"Ohhhh geez, this double sucks! Aaaaah!" Rixia starts running rather than fight, so she doesn't even understand that she can't harm the beast. She whimpers loudly, not even realising that her shadow is cast long and hard...

(BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmrUDOnbWNA )

... a shadow that spreads wings and horns as it coalesces into being. The very echo of possibility, the pinnacle of potential within her mind...

Maybe it is a bird, with its majestic feathered bat-wings.
Maybe it is a demon, with sharp blades jutting out of its elbows.
Maybe it is a lion, with its feline guise, a full mane of beautiful white fur.

Rixia sort of stumbles as she stares at the shadow that's emerged from within. What the heck is going on?! Is this her shadow, is--

>> ... ... ...

The creature glances backwards -- but not at her, but rather through her. It speaks to a presence that hasn't even manifested at the moment. 'Are you not tired of playing the part of the sleeping lion? An intangible beast, ever restrained, ever subservient to such fools... first the Nedeans... then the Federation... and now this girl...'

>> audio-visual tampering detected...
>> detecting possible corruption in memory stack
>> shutting down... enabling self-diagnostic checks...

The creature then turns to the Shadowhound.

'Enough. Now... you shall bleed...'

And descend it does, the lion of infinite possibility against the hound of darkness, fangs and claws bared bloody and fresh.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Xiumei apologizes. Azoth smiles at her, purposely faint to communicate her intuition isn't incorrect. "O-Oh, I'm just trying to see what I can find. There's no need to worry about me."

A half truth. The temptation is there to provoke more from the mirrors and the shadow. It would prove something if he got a response. Wouldn't it? It wouldn't. The ensorcelled energy here is reflecting off of all of them. Eventually, it shows him something because he wants to see it, or is afraid he will. Not because it is. The nothingness is the truth.

Magilou calls out to them, and Azoth turns away from the mirror, that cheerful demeanor snapped right back on as he practically frolicks after her. "Coming~!" As he passes by Ratatoskr, he slows a little, giving a fainter smile. Seeing someone else shut down like that when they aren't made of gears and wires... It's too much. "Hey, hey... We can fight again later, once we're out of here. Something to look forward to?" Not knowing the heart of what's going on with him, that's all Azoth thinks he has to offer.

But off they go. Live without hesitation, says the next room, and so do Azoth's subtitles. And that one's easy, he thinks, he hopes, until he realizes it has no meaning when he's programmed not to hesitate. This proves true when the Shadowhound arrives and he does not hesitate to flee with the others.

The Little Witch's faith is not misplaced in Azoth's shadow: visible now and though not to the scale it should be, still allowing reality to let it fit within the shrine. But it towers over everyone as much as is reasonable within the space they share, armor white instead of black, body alight in bright blue and brilliant fuchsia, some of its pieces crafted of this hard light instead of physical. None of that is surprising for Azoth except the one detail he understands that no one else could be privy to: the damaged hole sparking at the construct's chest is where there used to a cockpit... one that must have been ripped out.

Once it has a clear shot, a massive beam of light fires through the hall at the Shadowhounds, filling it entirely with its crackling, overkill energy because this thing being here at all is bringing a gun to a knife fight. (But the nature of the shrine means it isn't as effective as it looks like it should be. That's probably a good thing.) Azoth grins nervously at no one in particular, ducking and covering his head like he's taking shelter from the shadow's attack. "Whoooa, distorted illusions reeeeeally makes things super weird huh!"

This bluff won't work if everyone else feels more or less in line with their shadow selves on an aesthetic level.

But do they? Azoth looks over the other shadows that join the fight. Warped versions of themselves, but ones sprinkled with truisms. Things he shouldn't be seeing, but can't help devouring the data of as he paints pictures of those around him. And -- "Varius?"

That's not supposed to be Varius' objective... And the way he's fighting...

<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.

Ratatoskr hears another voice that he remembers only from the vestiges of memorable dreams whose finer details slip with the passage of time - and tugging to that frightful time he saw the very end of the world of his people before they became the Metal Demons.
 
  The Ratatoskr of the mirror turns their head towards that reflection of Ida's subconsciously though their body should be too broken to be seen as alive.
 
  They act like they're okay with forgetting all of it all over again...
 
  Multiple call out andor touch Ratatoskr's shoulder, yanking him away from introspection long enough to recognize he's going to fall behind, miss out on what's next, and walk away from those whispers (more like 'nearly a full-on sprint').
 
  He struggles to keep up with taking note of what inscriptions there are, trying to draw the untranslated Ancient Tongue markings on the datapad (which will always be inaccurate because of how incredibly important the manner of penmanship is in conveying specific meanings).
 
  His tail plating flares out violently at something again, and he swings an elbow and follows into a roundhouse kick that discharges compressed air against its flank. Nothing connects, against the slavering beast. It says enough that Ratatoskr's sense of self-preservation tends to be underdeveloped but there's enough there that maybe he needs to run.
 
  That hallway is long. His foot speed when he gets to all fours and shifts his Living Metal anatomy to accommodate is... very fast. But it never feels like he makes that distance.
 
  'Hyahaha--! Victory's close at hand...!' That youthful, obnoxious voice, as a shade matching Ratatoskr's 'standingfighting' proportions rises. Another human trick...! No different from the rest...
 
  A Ratatoskr who never once thought about individual 'humans' - the Metal Demons never differentiated between them, elves, or beastfolk - and marched right on down that self-destructive zealous path. A Ratatoskr who wasn't enraptured by Berserk's willingness to demonstrate how his fights with humans went (by doing it to him, of course).
 
  Beyond the sheen of his armor being a brilliant quicksilver, there seems to be no discernible physical differences between the 'here' Ratatoskr running, and the 'what could have been' on the wall. There's no real difference in their fighting technique. No real difference in the zeal or enthusiasm.
 
  Only the reason, as that shadow attempts the exact same combination the 'real' Ratatoskr tried to lead in with. An elbow into a roundhouse kick and a discharge of compressed air from his foot.

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

Seraphim do not need to eat, or sleep; they do not need to breathe. That Liath engages in these things is because of the simple fact that she takes joy in experiencing them. They've become second nature, in many cases.

In this case, it means her breathing is coming out quicker and more labored by the time they make it past the mirror maze. It isn't necessary -- but it is as much a reflection of her spirit as the shadows dancing along the walls.

Her fingers curl inward against her sternum as her chest rises and falls. It hides the way her fingertips quiver against her palm.

Less so, the way her shoulders now tremble by the time Marivel perches upon her and shouts, helpfully,

'SHIT!'

"--Ah," she exhales sharply, distracted from her reverie. Gold eyes widen. "I know this! It is an execrate! Ragnell is oft as like to crassly exclaim such, when things are going awry--"

She turns her head, just in time to see the SUDDENLY A DOG over her shoulder.

"--shit."

A second passes by in tensest silence.

"I see now."

This, however, is a thing that she can actually focus herself upon. Something she can actually -do-. The Shadowhound lunges; it is simple self-defense that Liath is unsheathing her sword and -cleaving- through the beast in a single stroke, liquid rainbow chasing after the edge of her blade.

Whereupon it just flows through the hound like it might as equally unsuccessfully smite fog.

Liath's reaction is an immediate, disapproving frown.

Her second reaction is an immedate, backwards hop to swiftly gain distance between herself and the beast, because loath as she is to do so, she has a bat on board.

And this is dog country.

"I do not believe so," is her solemn remark to Marivel as she soars backwards, staying substantial for the sake of the Noble at her shoulder.

"But I was unable to ascertain whether it was a boy."

--did she try--

The shadows sing. Liath's heels click on stone; and it is at her second backwards leap that, through those soft, hummed melodies, she hears a murmured confession at her shoulder.

Whatever Liath is experiencing now, it falls by the wayside in a moment as her expression softens. Blasphemous it might be now...

Blasphemous it might be...

Another singer joins in, humming along with the shadow's melody. Liath - not her shadow, Liath - follows every supposedly heretical note. She learns every beat. She commits it to memory.

So that, if nothing else, there will be another someone who remembers that song, even if not that voice.

Blasphemous it might be.

---

It might be Liath singing as she retreats, but it is her shadow that ultimate acts, unfettered and unrestricted and following a singularly powerful sentiment. Racing along the wavering light cast along the walls, it calls the light to it, giving it brief form -- form that is not in any way different from its original.

Form it uses to draw power in on itself, and embrace a possibility that has not been Liath's in a long, long time.

A Seraph's Blessing is a strange thing. It can be a blessing as much as it can be a curse. It can be powerful as much as it can be powerless. Each one is a fingerprint of a Seraph's soul.

And it is exactly what Liath's Shadow brings to bear.

A domain suddenly asserts itself over the area. It is strong -- very strong -- too strong. Strong even compared to those Blessings of the Lords of the Land tasked with protecting Glenwood. It rushes over the corridor, and with it... it brings warmth. Compassion. Acceptance.

The intoxicating feeling that you are safe from all troubles within its bolstering embrace. It emboldens the other shadows. Helps to empower them. Pushes out and wards at anything that dares threaten them.

Because this is a Blessing fueled by nothing more than the simplest sentiment of all: love. Pure, protective love.

So vast it could smother in its affection.

---

Liath does not linger for a single second longer. Nor does she look back.

She just keeps humming, even as her voice quavers ever-so-faintly.

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

"We're here together," Ida says, in between breaths that don't seem to fill her lungs. "But you can still be alone, together." Gunshots, and the sound of shattering glass. Ida whirls to face the source, and hears Josie's voice.

That could've been you. Bang. Dead. It's amazing it hasn't happened already. Do you even comprehend how lucky you are?

Ida presses a hand to her chest, breathes. The thoughts pass through her mind with all the grace and delicacy of razor wire. "Everyone," she says. "We're here. We're--" She fumbles for words.

You can't even reassure them. But it's your duty, isn't it? To bear the pain of others, and in doing so, ease their burden?

Ida's right hand convulses. She grips it just below the wrist; and in that moment, the shadowhound strikes. "LOOK OUT!" she screams, and she twists away. Her shadow unspools from her, but bits of it stay behind--the phantom outlines of internal organs, muscles, a skeleton, most of a nervous system. An entire right arm, separate from the other shadow's.

Idiot girl. Stay back.

Go to sleep. Go to sleep like all the others.

The first shadow leaps forward: Ida as she appears, proud and strong and confident, even cocksure. She's wearing a suit of some sort, and it's going to be awfully mussed in a few moments.

"Allow me."

Negative light curls around the shadow-Ida's right fist. This would be where Ida extrudes the exoskeleton--for extra striking power, as well as added resilience. It helps if you don't break your hand with your own finishing blow. Ida's shadow does no such thing. Its power is purely martial. Its body is purely human.

"You challenge a scion of the Demon Fist, creature! Stand down, or face judgment!"

Judgment. Ida was all about judgment. Like her mother was, in the stories. The hound, of course, does not stand down.

The shadow-Ida draws back her hand. Power erupts from her frame. Every muscle aligns to prepare for a single strike."Stainless Lotus Fist!"

The shadow throws the punch. Much like the phantom machine's, it has enough power to crack open the temple walls, to reduce pillars to rubble. Like the phantom machine's, it is dulled and muted, but no less impressive for it. The raw power of the School of the Demon Fist, bereft of any other teachings. Certainly not tainted by wicked Metal Demon methods.

The second shadow clings to one of the pillars, held in place by a webwork of biometal cables. It's humanoid, and its silhouette reveals details: armor and a camouflage cloak, both not of Filgaian design. A long-barreled rifle, clearly Hyadean. The figure is only slightly taller than Ida proper--and it looks a little sickly. "Target in sights," it says. "Glory to Mother, and to the world to come." The rail rifle cracks. A slug races at the shadowhound's head; there is no motion wasted, and no mercy given. Sniping was always seen as cowardly by Hyadeans, but it was all a sickly little scout could do. He deeply admires Lombardia, still, but he knows he could never be like her.

 

<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

The barrier blocks the Shadowhound from consuming the real people, who run away -- but it does not cease its assault, crashing against the barrier, time and time again.

(One may think, here, of the barrier of light Magilou has constructed about herself, here and there, at the most dire moments; but unlike that beehive construction, this is intricately patterned.)

But the Little Witch is not the only magician, in this hall. Epochal Ice lances frozen icicles at the Shadowhound, frustrating its approach. It moves more slowly, in the advanced cold of Eleanor's shadow -- slow enough for a practiced stab from Hiro's shadow, skewering in with a dark merger. This is where the dual efforts of martial arts and sniping from Ida's shadows come to bear, just as Ratatoskr lays into the Shadowhound with the raging power of the Hyadeans.

All a sudden, one of those strikes tears a Hound right out of the Hound. A second Shadowhound looks at itself, as it is born. It does not look for long. The shadow of Varius shows violence both abhorrent and complete. The remains left behind are consumed by the shadow Rixia casts, with feral claw and bloody teeth.

The power of a Light Domain floods the darkness, paradoxically, all born from Liath's shadow. It shudders at the edges of the shadows, casts them in even sharper relief. It is through this passageway that Azoth's shadow fires a BEAM of light: it illuminates the Shadowhound, brings defined edges to its form, halts it in its anger. It is blinded and baffled, but not broken.

The martial arts of Pearl's shadow are not so murderous -- with sprightly kicks, she knocks some sense back into the Shadowhound. The music from Marivel's shadow orchestra settles over it, and it whines, in confusion.

This is a confusion which is ultimately settled...

By a bone, waved by Josie's shadow. She calls the Shadowhound away, and after a moment's deliberation, it turns and trots back into the darkness the way it came, chasing after that bone.

From the room behind them can be heard the shadowy noises of CHEW, CHEW, NOMPH.

"Heartwarming," Magilou comments, dryly, and hates the fact that she can see the shadow she's cast. "Let's keep moving."

Once again, darkness. This time, it does not fade, through the threshold. Words in the Ancient Tongue light up, the absence of the absence of light: 'Hold hope in your hearts.'

Take one more step forward -- and you're falling.

Falling, through darkness, with no one beside you.

And yet -- from each of you -- a light shines. A light shines, and casts shadows against the inky blackness, of the pit which consumes you. Your 'guiding light'...

... what it illuminates will be different, for each person, though always there is the falling.

What is clear is that there is no one beside you. No Xiumei beside Eleanor; no Ida beside Azoth; no Rixia beside Magilou. Each person is alone -- totally, utterly alone -- as they tumble through a vast abyss, with no visible stop at the end. (Surely there must be. Horrifically, there must be.)

Except...

You're not alone.

There, cast by that light, your shadow falls with you.

This is a problem you're going to have to solve together.

What accord will you reach, with the darkness? When you are alone with the shadow you cast? This time, without exception -- no one else will hear you. No one else can see you. This is between you and your 'other self.'

For instance --

When Magilou runs into a problem like this, she just pulls out a shikigami, and flies out of it. This would be a perfect solution -- were not for the fact that the pit swallows all attempts to circumvent it. Literally, in this case: formless shadow monsters bite at her heels, drive her to swerving back and forth, veering and teetering on the balance of her paper doll.

'Let me help you!' Cries the Little Witch who is her shadow, who has taken her appearance and subverted all the cruelties behind it.

"Oh, leave me alone!" Magilou yells, running a tight corkscrew between obscure teeth. "You think I don't know how this works?! You think I don't know what happens when I give in?! If something sounds too good to be true, news flash -- IT IS!"

'I know,' the Little Witch cries, as she scrambles after her. She does not fall; she is not a physical being. She is defined by Magilou; defined by light. Without light, she cannot be seen. 'I know he hurt you! And the people who found you first hurt you, too! And they only got to hurt you because your parents hurt you, in the first place! I know! But why?! Why can't you entertain the thought of a world where you won't always be hurt?!'

"I don't know," Magilou snaps, with base irritation. "No one ever loved you, I suppose. Why would I start now? I won't be fooled this easily."

'That's not true! It's not true! WHEN YOU WERE IN PAIN, BIENFU ANSWERED YOU! That's why it was such a betrayal when he left, wasn't it?! But even so, after that, he stayed with you!'

"He didn't have a choice!" Magilou yells. "I've been subjugating him this whole time! It's a wonder they haven't realised that logic survives through the present day -- in me!"

'You know that's not true! You know EXACTLY where he could go for help if he couldn't bear it! That edict freed all Seraphim, and you know it!'

"..."

'And what about Grimoirh?! Didn't she save you, when you were too broken to even feed yourself?! Didn't she shelter you, too?!'

"..."

'Didn't Velvet find a way to reach you which wouldn't hurt so badly?'

"Shut up!"

'Wasn't it their way of saying that they trusted you?!'

"Just shut up!"

'You can trust people! And you KNOW that you can trust people! So why are you making everyone jump through all these hoops, just so you can pretend you're standing alone?!'

Another shadow bites, and that shikigami slips away from Magilou; down she tumbles, just as she was before.

"And what if I get hurt?!"

'What if you DON'T get hurt?! Why do you have to be the sort of person to ask that question when you're FALLING TO YOUR DEATH?! Why won't you just listen to me?! The world where people aren't trying to hurt you when they offer help -- YOU'RE ALREADY LIVING IN IT!'

"So what?!" Magilou screams. "Are you offering?!"

'For the last time, YES!!'

"FINE!"

The Little Witch dives for her, wraps her arms about her -- and it's a shadow shikigami she finds under her feet. It's something the shadows don't assault, as she coasts the rest of the way down.

And like the others, when she comes to land -- safely, or safely enough --

They land in a room together, one more room with erratic brickwork, and the Ancient tongue etched above.

'Hold hope for tomorrow. Here lies your final challenge.'

Through that chamber...

Take a moment to breathe.

<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.

"The deeper in the dark we go, the louder our own thoughts become." Marivel murmurs to Hiro--and Liath by virtue of proximity.

But she is presently disturbed by DOG and admits to Liath. "You're right I shouldn't have assumed. I know one dog that's non-binary and they just sort of switch whenever."

Marivel breathes out a little bat sigh of relief when she doesn't get attacked by a shadow dog. She's had some real annoying and rough experiences with Time Dogs that quite resembled that entity. She'd rather not have to face one down again.

Liath is singing.

....

The Prime Lord of Althena is singing along. Marivel's paws grip tightly against Liath's shoulder that speaks volumes without words or sound.

She's gripping tightly enough that she...

...actually ends up falling in the hole with her. Is it coincidence?

Or is it that her Shadow has challenged Marivel many times by herself already?

Solitude has been Marivel's bread and butter for thousands of years. And thousands of years more if you count the Event Horizon. Infinite moments of solitude, and togetherness, all boiled together as one instant--but that instant is also forever.

No, Marivel's Shadow has had enough of solitude. This is the answer the Shadow has for those that planted this trap. Refusing solitude is the aspect of Marivel that she has always denied again and again, always playing it off as a lesson, or a momenet of weakness rather than the deep seated need it always was.

Something she claims she could never have again, not really. And perhaps that part is true. There is no adventuring party like your first adventuring party but with work...

Marivel poufs back into her humanoid form. "I'm really sorry about this. I know what he wants but..."

She exhales. Across the way, Marivel's shadow looks at her. The violin it has been playing is extended wordlessly out towards Marivel--

--and she reaches forward and...

...she takes it, even in midair. The bow first, then the violin.

"I would not add to your burdens." Marivel tells Liath. "But if it is no burden..."

She brings the violin up to her chin. She readies the bow in her hand.

"Then you can join me if you'd like."

And she begins to play.

You can describe music in many ways. You could talk about the chords and arpeggios, you could describe ballades and allegros and genres. You could talk about volume, piano and forte and all their increasingly extreme iterations. You could discuss at length the underlying mathematical underpinnings of all music, or maybe just give the piece a fancy title but in the end there is only one way to truly experience it. And that's to listen to it.

BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACon4txJiDA

There are any number of shadow instruments to choose from if one should like. But as it stands, one thing is clear enough--

--No matter what she lost, the songs they sang together...

...They never abandoned her.

And yet...though the piano came first-- as Marivel's violin grows stronger in melody, and the piano fades away in turn--

--No matter what Hiro says, the two of them... She and her teacher can't really ever play this song together anymore? Not the two of them. Eventually the student must face the music hall alone.

...But perhaps not today.

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

The shadow of Varius stands over the disintegrating body of a shadowhound. The afterimages of the massive beam of light that Azoth's shadow fired off linger behind him; motes of light that fall around him, before they wink out. He looks up at Azoth, and his two eyes meet his: one, glowing bright green like Xiumei's in Model AV; the other, ruined and with red shining through. "Heh. Didn't tell you, did he, Azoth?"

He tilts his head. "You're lucky. Not living through it. Forgetting. Seeing it made it easy... to decide to turn my back on the humans. To help the Metal Demons end it. And what I could have gotten out of it--"

He holds his hand up. It gleams -- and then a red-streaked piece of armor appears over it. It's vaguely larger, rounder, than his forearm armor. And while it's red-streaked, it is also blue; it ends in a large cannon, rather than a hand. Beads of white light are drawn into it. It's Kamui's X-Buster, charging up.

But he vanishes into the shadows before he can fire on Azoth.

Xiumei, as she runs in a panic, only half-registers the huge form that Azoth summons or the massive blast of energy. She can hear singing, behind her; Liath's singining, she thinks. She catches Ida's shadow flying past. It's all a blur, as she runs as fast as she can -- and with the Biometal, she can run fast indeed.

She runs into the darkness, and she is alone. She stumbles to a stop, breathing hard -- almost hyperventilating -- and then looks around. She realizes she is alone -- without Eleanor, without Azoth, Ida, Marivel, Liath -- and she shudders, her fingers curling into a fist. But there is a light, glowing, and it produces a shadow.

The woman with glasses. Her, but one that chose a different route; one that never took a Biometal, never joined ARMS, and never troubled anyone else.

'You don't want to be here.'

"No," Xiumei admits. She looks down. "I don't."

'I don't just mean this shrine.'

"I know," Xiumei says. "I don't... I don't like doing this. But I want to stay next to Eleanor. And help ARMS and my friends there. And stay with Varius and Avile."

'Even though it hurts. And even though you hate how it makes them worry.'

"Because I'm always going to worry. Because nothing's going to be perfect. Because there's things I'll never want to do, but I have to, and... there's still things I like."

ELSEWHERE

"I should kick your ass for showing them that bullshit," Varius snaps, slamming a finger hard enough into his shadow's chest to move him backward. In his mind's eye, he had his old form -- blonde hair, two green eyes, and a strong jaw. The mismatched, half-ruined eyes of his shadow looked back at him.

'Go fuck yourself.'

"Eat shit," Varius spits.

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment longer. Varius crossed his arms first.

'You still hate them. The humans. The world.'

"Some days."

'Every day.'

"Don't put words in my mouth," Varius answers. He grunts. "Some days. Some days... I remember how they're okay. And sometimes, I remember how they made some good things... and maybe they used me. But not all of them did. Maybe they killed Avile--"

Shadow and Reploid tense simultaneously, to hear it said aloud.

"--but that isn't all of them. One person doing something bad doesn't mean everyone well," Varius finishes. He looks down. "And trying to burn everything around me down is just lashing out."

'So what? No more lashing out?'

"Just when it makes things better."

'Yeah. All right.'

Both of them, shadow and reploid, closed their eyes.

ELSEWHERE

'Are those things really worth it, Xiumei? The way you feel, on the bad days?'

Xiumei stays quiet for a moment. Then, she smiles, and shakes her head. "No, but if I judged life on the bad days, then the good days wouldn't matter. I'd rather be happy on the good days, than hope that I never have a bad day."

'...okay. I am pretty lonely.'

"Me, too, sometimes," Xiumei says. "But... there's a way to not feel that way. Let's go find Nora. And Varius. And Avile."

She holds a hand out. The shadow hesitates -- and then takes hers, and vanishes. Then, after a moment, there is a tingle in her mind -- and a voice cuts in.

"Varius?"r
<Sorry you saw that. You okay, kid?>

"I'm sorry I got scared. I'll be okay," Xiumei says. She hesitates. "Avile? Are you there?"

There was silence in her mind.

ELSEWHERE

"...You should come out," Avile says, to a vast emptiness. She appears as she sees herself: a woman of medium height, with long pink hair and glowing blue eyes. Her armor is a light teal and white, and she has a glowing gem in the center of her chest. She looks into the shadows -- and sees no shadow. "This is so unfair, you know. Everyone else gets one."

Silence.

"And not me," Avile says. She sighs, then hangs her her head. "Since... that's the point. Smile, be the big sister, and make some jokes and cheer everyone up. And don't let them know."

She looks to the side. "Maybe a miracle brings me back from the dead, but it doesn't bring me back. It doesn't mean I suddenly found hope again. It just means... I have to keep moving, even if I feel like I'm a ghost of who I used to be."

The silence answers her.

"And that's why you're not here," Avile says. "Because you stopped. And I can't." She closes her eyes. "Sorry. I'm not going to let us rest, though."

ELSEWHERE

"Avile?" Xiumei asks.

<I'm here. Don't worry~!>

"That's not happening, but thank you," Xiumei says. She steps forward -- and lands, in a room, with one chamber ahead of them. She stares up at it, for a moment.

<Pose Tracker> Eleanor Klein has posed.

Josie says it's fine. It's not fine. Eleanor's not gonna push her. Pearl says it isn't her concern, and Eleanor isn't going to push her right now, either. But as the Hounds come--

Xiumei's shadow is gone in an instant. Eleanor recognizes her immediately, and realizes just as quickly--she simply wouldn't be here. But the one who would be here is Varius, and Eleanor sees him not just hears him this time. The ruined half of his face; his harsh words. ...His plans. "Varius, I--"

She blanches. This is not the Varius she knows. But the Shadow Eleanor simply says, 'Tsk. Letting yourself be intimidated by a monster. You really are too soft.'

But some people seem to be able to handle the Hounds in different ways, with... bones.

"Hiro!" she calls, when she sees him running. "We can't fight them ourselves!"

But Azoth... he grins nervously, and his shadow is awe-inspiring. But--strange. "...Does it?" she asks him, and can't help but watch a few more moments before she keeps running. She doesn't recognize the significance of Ratatoskr's similarities to himself, in the moment. She doesn't think about how much a reason alone can change things. But there are many she doesn't see.

But the Shadow Eleanor accepts the Shadow Liath's help easily, adept at teamwork even as she decries one of her partners as weaker. She winks in her helper's direction. 'I've long been... curious, about Seraphim...'

Eleanor is not sure she likes the look in the other Eleanor's eye as she says that. But they evade the hounds. They evade the hounds, and it is 'heartwarming',, and...

The darkness is there. 'Hold hope in your hearts', it says, and Eleanor takes a step into the darkness... and falls. Fall, fall, fall, into the dark, and her Light is brilliant, blinding in how it shines forth into the darkness. Her 'guiding light' is so very, very clear. Flashes of images come to mind; the past, the future. And the present. A chamber in the Sielje school, lit up with ritual candles and sigils; the church at which she was to be married. A strange, golden temple of no familiarity to her, inscribed with strange runes that she cannot place.

And there... There is the other Eleanor, with her brown eyes and wedding band.

'That's right. I never saw the visions. I never took part in the ritual. And I never learned the fear you did.'

"What? But that can't be right. I would be... I wouldn't be so..."

'Mean?' the Shadow asks. 'You would become what you must. For ARMS. For Klein. For Filgaia. ...But you're right. It would never happen this way. Not really. Because this isn't your destiny. This is... your 'mortal' self, Eleanor.'

"My...? But we're falling. How does this help us with our falling!?"

'Shhh. Patience. You know that you have nothing to fear from Darkness, girl. Your true self knows it. Darkness... is simply the product of your nature. You cast shadows.'

"I don't--I don't understand. You say these things. But you're like her. You're being cruel to make me understand, again. Can't you just tell me?"

'No, I can't. But you've already started on the path. Admit it; you've gone away from what you 'have' to do. From your responsibilities. Because you know your path leads elsewhere. ...You know your path leads you away.'

"But I--I don't--I don't want to go."

'You have already turned your back on me. With the promise you made to Marivel. You know that you can't exist in both worlds forever. ...But I'll take care of this one, for you. Of your family.'

"...I..." Eleanor hesitates, and looks down to the abyss, far beneath. "...I know," she murmurs. "But I don't understand."

'You won't. Not yet. But in time, you will. Leave the matters of the mortal world to me. Simply reach within yourself. Find your Light...'

"But, I..."

'The path before you has not been prepared. Save them. Only you can.'

"...Is it really so different? My life, with that one choice?"

'...It was never your choice to begin with. You could never have been me. But I'm what you thought you would be. What your family thought you would be. And I will watch over you... Eleanor.'

"...It wouldn't have been so bad," Eleanor says. "Being you. I'm afraid, but... I'll make the most of the time I have."

Her Shadow inclines her head, and closes her eyes. When she opens them, they are yellow like Eleanor's, and shining brightly. 'Of course you will. You were always one to fly.'

Eleanor rises, and soars into the air on a trail of golden light, the Shadow looking on with an unreadable expression.

And then Eleanor is there, in the room, standing upright. She reads the warning this time. Hold hope...

"...I--"

She bites her lip, holds back tears, and feels as if she has just lost something, even as she gained something else. A door in her heart has closed.

<Pose Tracker> Rixia has posed.

There's so many questions Rixia has about so many things that she's seen -- colossal suits of armour firing beams, mysterious Hyadean snipers, the visage of someone in armour akin to Xiumei's... Marivel's music, and... the Blessing that Liath casts over her--

Once again, it feels like... a caring parent.

...

Then there is darkness, and she is alone... again.

"... just like always, huh," Rixia mumbles dully, a little bit too embittered at this point to really be surprised.

But she's wrong.

She's not alone. The clop of thick platform boots is heard in the darkness, and Fashionista-Rixia appears again, having now replaced her raspberry parfait with a mysterious plastic cup of whipped cream qq passionfruit green tea, food from the space age.

"Uuuugh, leave me alone," Rixia whines, as someone who doesn't have qq bubble tea and wants some even though she doesn't even understand what it is. All she knows is that it looks tasty.

"I get it. This is a trial for the tough, cool people who have hope and resolve in their hearts. The kind of trial people who'll save the world wins. This isn't the kind of place a girl who bumbles into being able to have adventures goes to and wins. Really..."

Ronso-Rixia wordlessly sits down beside her, having nothing to say but the rude SLURPPPPPPPPPP of boba tea.

"You think I don't know anything you've said to me? I get it. I mean, I'm clueless at times, sure, but I'm not THAT clueless. You think I don't know I just got duped by that woman from the stars that one night? You think I don't know something messed up's probably happening to me because of that device?"

Ronso-Rixia chokes for a moment because she snarfed tapioca up her gullet.

"... they called them Hellions, right? When the darkness in your heart gets too much and you just kinda cave in to all your problems and despair. That's the kind of fate someone pretending like me ends up in. I'm not a hero. I've always been someone faking it until I make it. ... haah... 'having hope in your heart'? Takes way too strong a person to do that. I'm going to just end up some monster they have to kill-- GWAK--"

It's at this point Ronso-Rixia shoves her bubble tea cup onto Rixia's cheek. It's unbelievably cold!

'You drink while I talk,' she urges. 'Just don't choke, those things are sticky as all heck.'

Rixia blinks a few times, before huffing and taking a little slurp. Hmm. Cold passionfruit delicacy...

'In the end, I'm just you. I can't offer you advice you don't already know deep down.'

She kicks back while she takes out a compact and checks her own face, and then tops up her foundation.

'But the more you convince yourself you're dirt on someone's gumboot compared to these people, the more you're just gonna push yourself away from ever finding someone who'll actually take care of you and mean it.'

Rixia sniffles a bit. "Whatever. We're alone right now, I'm allowed to whine as much as I want. It's been a crappy day."

'The moment you convinced yourself that people are too busy, too lofty, too noble to care about someone like you is the moment you shut that door yourself.'

"Not listening..."

'At some point, you're going to have to believe people can care and that people won't ghost you just because it already happened like three times in your life.'

"Nuh uh!"

'I mean, what about Ashe? She's real nice and cares about you and is definitely not seemingly interested in your device... ... mm. Well, jury's out on that one. Uh, I mean, Magilou... yeah, okay, there's definitely layers of layers there. Shoot, I'm messing up my own cool advice moment! Gaah, this is hard! How do trial guardians manage it without messing up?'

"See?"

'Blghhhhh, this sucks. Give boba back.'
"No! It's mine now!"
'GIMME'
"NO"
'OW STOP PULLING ON MY HAIR'
"YOU DID IT FIRST!"
'NOT THE FACE YOU'RE RUINING MY MAKEUPPPPPppp'

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

Someone is singing.

Josie glances back over her shoulder, as if trying to sight the source, her pace slowing just long enough for her to get a glimpse of a number of the other shadows, some easily recognizable--

"...A Gear..?"

--Others not so much.

But it also means that she gets to see her shadow, dressed in her finery, toss the shadowy hound a bone at the end. "..."

Josie says not a word as they move on. Not. A. Word.

It's just one step. One step, and then she's falling. Everything else may as well have been swallowed up: there's no light, no sound. No sensation. Nerveless fingers loosen their grip on her ARM; it tumbles free from her grip and vanishes into the endless night. There is nothing left in the darkness but herself.

Ah, but there is light. And where there is light, there is shadow. Skirts rippling in their shared freefall, Josie's shadow reaches out for her and grasps her good hand.

'Isn't it time you stopped running from how you feel?'

Try as she might, Josie cannot escape her shadow's grip. "And what...? Go back? Stop being stupid."

'It's not a bad thing. Running away, I mean. I know. I was there. So you left home and made a new life for yourself. But that didn't make you happy, did it?'

"And? Happy's a pretty rare commodity, ain't it!"

'Not as rare as some think. Didn't you find it?' Her shadow has begun to draw her closer, slowly pulling her closer into her own orbit. She has two strong hands, both holding Josie's left arm firmly. 'I know. You lost a lot to find it, more than some will ever know. But isn't it time to drop the act?'

Josie shakes her head, defiant even as she plummets to her end. "...Too late. Far, far too late. I've gone too far to stop now. And you know I--"

Her shadow makes a soft little huff, almost a laugh. 'Weren't you the one good at running?'

"Can't outrun hell. Or whatever's comin'. You know what happens to them that turns on their... their..." Josie trails off, wind ripping through her hair and pulling several more long pale strands free. Her voice drops, to barely more than a whisper. It feels like the darkness is closing in, moving to swallow the two of her. "...You were right, though. It was about me. It wasn't never about her, not hardly. And it was only ever a means to an end. A way to buy myself time. Until..."

'...Until the day came when you'd stop running for good. Right? But you found something else. Another reason to keep going.'

Josie shakes her head. "...Still too late."

'Is it?'

"You can't be serious. No one in their right mind would--"

Her shadow has released one hand from her arm to press a finger against Josie's lips. 'Don't count yourself out yet, kiddo. Just remember. 'All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.' Maybe there's no second chances, but you can always start over.' The shadow winks. 'Right? Now, how about we try not to fall to our deaths!'

"Wait--"

Josie's shadow has already produced some sort of line, its glinting end zipping off somewhere into the darkness in search of a secure point. All that remains is to arrest a fall.

<Pose Tracker> Hiro has posed.

Hiro finds himself trying not to think too much about the contrast of the warmth of Liath's domain versus how readily she walks away... the contrast is difficult for him to comprehend. Seraphim in general are.
 
What choice did she make though?
 
One step, another. And then he's falling. There's a light though. And his shadow is falling with him.
 
Hiro's immediately tries to lash out with a spell that tries to make the shadows a physical thing. It doesn't work. Hiro is silent as he falls end over end in space.
 
"Are you going to give me the silent treatment? Just like you always do?" "It's not the silent treatment. I'm just thinking."
 
"We're falling and you're still thinking about the best way to deny your feelings again? To sacrifice them?" "What's wrong with that?"
 
Hiro experimentally tries a spell, to create an air current - but the air is stagnant in this place.
 
"Moron. You need to take care of yourself. You just accept everything. Take it in stride. Even when you're abandoned and betrayed. Can't you get mad every now and then?" "And what would that solve?"
 
"NOTHING! Not everything has to be trying to resolve it - trying to look at their justification. Why can't you just take a good hard look at how you feel instead? Why do you keep letting them betray you again and again? Why don't you get mad? Why don't you think of yourself more whenever something like this happens?"
 
...
...
...
 
"Because it'd be easy." Hiro lets himself take a breath. "Too easy. When I started this journey everything was black and white... now nothing is. It'd be too easy to write people off for just... one time, because I didn't understand what made them tick. I choose a kinder world. And I have to keep choosing it every day. Even for those who hurt me... when I can't understand why they did it."
 
"Are you sure that isn't just cowardice?" "No." "Of course it i-... ... Wait really?" "... is it really so wrong to be a little scared of that moment of departure? That standing on a dock waving farewell? A duel ended where you go your separate ways forever - that your beliefs are just incompatible? That niggling doubt that... that's just it. And never again."
 
"That's a more honest answer than I expected out of you... same goes for her?" "For her most of all."
 
"When the time comes... can you at least be true enough to your feelings to tell them all? Especially her? To not sacrifice your feelings for once?" The shadow reaches out its hand his way. Hiro is silent for a while and then says, "No promises." At the same moment he reaches out and clasps his shadow's hand.
 
The shadow responds angrily, but doesn't loosen its grip. "ARGHHHH! You are such a child - you can't even commit to the simplest of things!" "... Well..." Hiro says with a small grin to his shadow... and says the words of the immortal Fei Fong Wong.
 
"... nobody's perfect."
 

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth deprioritizes paying attention to his own hulking shadow -- that will have to be a revelation for everyone else to consider a problem. Instead, he's staring straight back at Varius. Not Varius. What Varius could be? Almost was? Really is?

Forgetting. Azoth's forgotten. And what he didn't forget, he slept through. "I didn't meant to. I was destroyed, Varius. If I had been there --" It's a helpless statement, implying, what, if he were there then he could have helped? Prevented something that's scarred Varius to the core? That Azoth was even the kind of machine back then who would have done something? He might have joined him. But Azoth can't remember. Varius can, and that's what scares Azoth about him. Because he must know how much of this Azoth is a fake. Someone entirely different by design.

That shock of blue in the red demands Azoth's attention. Kamui's X-Buster. Azoth goes still, not understanding and understanding all too well at once. Then the shadow is gone, Azoth yet unscathed. He looks to Xiumei, but when he can calculate no words to give, he looks to the ground instead.

The silence from his own shadow greets him. Azoth looks back at massive entity, gaze fixated on its damaged chest. He looks to his own hand, fingers twitching like claws. If only. What a dangerous thought. He tries to hurry along before anyone asks if that one's his. You don't know! It could be Ratatoskr's! He's got a tail too! (Rata's shadow is quite obviously identifiable, unfortunately for Azoth.)

When the Ancient Tongue appears, Azoth translates in subtitles, as always. But there is no one to translate for. Only darkness. Alone. ... How nostalgic. But this is dangerous, he needs to --

He's falling, and for a moment, all his calculations are as empty as the darkness. As empty as the machine now falling with him. In the darkness, at its proper size: his proper size, Gear scaled and inhuman from every angle except that it's upright on two legs (as much as a falling thing can be), and even that's optional.

"You can't fly anymore either, huh?" Azoth asks. The machine is silent. Time goes strange, and Azoth lands himself in that hole in the machine's chest, running his hand along frayed wires and shred metal.

"You're the me who wasn't destroyed. Who never ended up in this mess. ...Because we did this?"

Azoth kicks his legs idly over the edge of the hole of himself. "Sorry. I don't remember. I don't know who we were, or what this means. It's so close. But once I get it... We'll be you. And I'll be gone."

With a shrug, Azoth looks up at a face that he identifies more like his own than the one he's wearing. "So... you win." He smiles. "Just be patient."

Lights activate across the massive machine, halting its fall, and Azoth stands up. He hops out, spinning around to face the mirror and landing on an outstretched claw. Azoth gives a dramatic, gestured flourish to nothing, then pauses, glancing aside. "...Seriously, are we alone?"

Light crawls over Azoth's body, pixelated light shifting him to peel away the human guise: a dark construct flickering with red light and covering a skeletal, damaged form with a tattered cloak. He vanishes, teleporting to float face-to-face with his shadow self, placing a claw against his own visor.

This time it responds, but not with a voice. Digital sounds. A wireless connection. Ones and zeroes in millions of combinations. A song he used to speak through, that so few can understand. Learning to translate it with any accuracy to the outside world has been a challenge, even without factoring in his manipulations for the results he seeks.

But it's not nothing. And there, with himself, he can experience a moment unmasked.

Maybe nobody else has to like it but him.

When he lands safely, the disguise has returned, and instead of a massive machine with him, Azoth clutches a strange device in his hands: a sphere glowing blue and pink, coiled in mechanical filigree. A core identical to the one inside of his chassis.

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

The Prime Lord Liath is only here to observe.

It is her mantra to help her focus. The tingle of pain that radiates outward from her heart just reminds her of why that mantra is there.

And yet even so, there is a moment when she looks back at that shining Blessing, as the Shadowhound trots away, its threat neutralized through canny cleverness instead of bald-faced violence.

There is a moment of bittersweet nostalgia that lingers in her eyes, before she pushes onward after the others.

'Heartwarming,' says Magilou, voice dry with an abundance of sarcasm.

"Yes," murmurs Liath, voice flooded with a lack of it.

She is only here to observe. She simply didn't expect how much she would see. How much would be opened up in the process. And now...

A single step, and Liath and Marivel fall into the gaping, open wound of possibility and unknown just beyond that overshadowed preference.

She does not halt. She makes that last step, knowing full well what lies ahead of her.

But there is a moment, a rare, fleeting moment where where that armored boot hesitates before its final step.

They fall. One alone by choice, one by necessity. Even in solitude, Liath had people. Even in solitude, Liath had tales spun to her from places all over the world, from an adventurous Seraph of Lightning.

But now...

There is only the dark. She can feel Marivel, but it is a distant sensation, as if the shadows were numbing her even to the Crimson Noble's presence. They swirl. They churn around her.

And with every lap of the dark comes a different mantra from the one she has recited to her soul:

-Let Me Help!-
-Let Me Help!-

-Let Me Help!-

Let Me Hel"NO!"

In the dark, something darker still spills out of Liath's lips in the shuddering exhale of her shout. She curls on herself, fighting the tremors that roll through her. "I ca-cannot. Not... ever again."

It's a murmur to the dark. To a mantra that will never stop.

But she is not alone. Even when she needs to be.

Even when she must be.

'I'm really sorry about this. I know what he wants but...'

In the dark, gold eyes crack open, shining in shadow. Even in the consuming blackness, she can see the Crimson Noble across from her. And she can see the glowing light of her own Seraphic Shadow yet further across still.

"... You have naught to apologize for, Marivel. The onus is... all ours to bear."

'I will not add to your burdens. But if it is no burden...'

A bow settles upon string. Liath's eyes close once more.

'Then you can join me if you'd like.'

"I..."

And slowly, Liath draws herself back up; even in the midst of what should be a free fall, she finds purchase to prop herself upon her palm.

"... I would like that."

Even in the dark, her fingers, gloved and armored, find the keys to a piano beneath her.

And she plays.

Music is as much a methodology as it is a feeling. It inspires things. It paints a portrait in sound.

And with every note, from the shadows Liath's double is weaved from springs a color.

A white. A blue. A green. A sunny yellow.

Every note paints a world of color onto a canvas of shadow. Every note provides depth and substance to a world where there was once nothing but the possibility of it.

Every note paints a feeling, spins a memory, until Liath and Marivel are playing their song in the middle of a grand, open air plaza of cobblestone pathways and beautiful sculptures. Behind them, water crashes cool and blue from a grand fountain. Around them, people pass by, talking, laughing, arguing, skulking.

Far in the distance, a great cathedral looms larger than life in this place of clear skies and clearer smiles.

Liath does not open her eyes to see it. She just smiles, and focuses on the music she makes with her friend, as she speaks to a shadowed voice of plentiful colors in the back of her mind.

-We could make it like this again, you know. Something wonderful. For all of them.-

-No. That time has long passed us by. You know that. 'Twould accomplish naught but ill in the end regardless.-

-If we just tried harder. Did more...!-

Liath's smile is melancholic. Behind them, a girl and her father walk down the cobblestone pathways, a puppy with a red splotch on its chest excitedly hopping at their heels.

-I know. ... I know. I think there will always be a part of me that will hate you. ... That will hate myself. That will never stop wishing that very thing. But all we can do now is push on. We cannot have what once was.-

-... But can I at least help you?-

-...-

A warmth shines from that Cathedral. Rushes outward.

Pure, unconditional love washes over Marivel and Liath...

... and song and companionship and acceptance draw them from the depths of what was and what could have been.

<Pose Tracker> Pearl has posed.

In the fury, seeing the others in that darkness fight, hearing a Seraph sing heresy, seeing the violent shadows cast. While hers is gentler, kinder, humorous? Not the pit of darkness she expected?

And then they fall. Alone. Into darkness. Pearl has known this darkness all her life. It's where she fled to lick her wounds. It's where she struck from. It was a weapon and a place of safety and a source of fear all at once. For it was in the darkness where she was taken, and her past was cut from her-

"Wouldn't you like to know what it was? That past of yours." The girl, with her unmarred skin and soft expression falls next to Pearl, with a warm smile. Pearl tries to avoid her look. To simply fall. To work out a way out.

The girl from the mirror sighs. "You're scared, right? Scared to look into those missing years? You don't want to know who that girl was, because what if it's too painful to know her and know that you aren't her? Or is this even the first time you're considering having somewhere to go back to?" She circles round to face Pearl. And Pearl once again turns her head away, but this time she nods. "Well, that's something. At least you know it. Pity that's the problem."

This makes Pearl look up. Her shadow gently wags a finger in her face. "You're still ruled by fear, y'know. Except now you're not just afraid of that old man, you're afraid of just about anything. Touch. Speaking up. Making friends. Moving forward. That's why you keep telling people they've got the right to kill you, if you make it through sin. Heck, the boldest, most forward planning thing you've done since killing Lunn was getting a library card in Vane!"

There's a roar in her soul that seems mirror that. Had she been so withdrawn, so unsure, that even Leviathan was agreeing with this shadow? "What is the point in making plans, when you could die any time? All that will do is cause harm."

And that, it seems, makes her shadow angry. "Listen to yourself, Meizhin! That's what living is! What you're doing is surviving- badly I might add! You're just existing to die! Jean wouldn't want that! Leo wouldn't want that! Your friends wouldn't want that! The only one who would is a hateful old man who's dead on the ground! You've fought your way to having a life, now live it you... you... you dense idiot!"

Pearl blinks. Several times. "Meizhin...?" The shadow rubs her temples.

"Hell, that's your name. Some part of you deep down knows it. But you didn't know enough to reach for it. But now you know enough that you could know more. So, last chance, what do you want to do?"

Pearl breathes, for a moment. "...I want to live. I want to know."

"Attagirl! Let's do it!" She turns her back to Pearl. "Arms over my shoulders, and hold on tight! We're cutting through!" Pearl takes several deep breathes. Reaching out is hard. Touching is hard. Holding on is hard. Even to herself. It's a hesitant, weak grasp, that becomes stronger and tighter, as she's pulled forward by the arms. "And away we go!"

And in a perfect display of wuxia qinggong, the shadow launches into the darkness, gliding away.

<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.

When the whole matter clears up in that spectacular array of everyone's colorful shadows and they move forward... there is another series of Ancient Tongue characters that he wants to sketch into the datapad with the careless inaccuracy of everything beyond the surface look, and when Ratatoskr starts to fall he could have very well stuck a clawed finger through the datapad had he not raised his hand up.
 
  A Living Metal patagium extends and unfurls between his limbs to make the attmept to control his descent in a way it doesn't seem to take. He doesn't feel his fall is being slowed or controlled in the least... no, there's a sense of rapid acceleration towards something that should happen but doesn't.
 
  There's no one here. Not even the people he'd been itching to see and meet in battle again. Just him, in a downward spiral, and clutching the datapad that holds so much history...
 
  It feels like the fall could last forever, as Ratatoskr's very eyes dim... until there's a different light, of a different color, and a none too different Ratatoskr.
 
  One he can't tell as to whether it's that human blood-crimson colored armor he typically wears drenched in Hyadean quicksilver, or that same armor in Hyadean quicksilver decorated in human blood.
 
  The surface Ratatoskr doesn't look their way.
 
  'What they were... what they are.' It's a much more solemn, beaten-up sounding self - the parts of him that do not benefit so broadly from the physical near-immortality he enjoys from both old age and lasting physical harm alike. 'One of them said you'd go mad trying to remember as many as possible. Names you never knew. People you never met. Faces you didn't recognize.'
 
  The surface Ratatoskr can't close his eyes, but he doesn't respond.
 
  'What came next after Mother won? You always wondered.'
 
  Ratatoskr, silent.
 
  'What will come next after this war with everyone fighting everyone?' Asks the battered, broken, ambiguously colored Ratatoskr. 'I can't answer that.'
 
  "Then why ask? Then why ask!" Snaps the Hyadean remnant.
 
  'You can't imagine life after the fighting's over.'
 
  That silence hangs for a while in that free-fall.
 
  'Nobody we knew could. Just the promise of what winning would bring...' The battered shadow says. 'Not even Vinsfeld can keep everyone together. So many are already forgotten in Odessa... like that gentle old man with the claw.' That Ratatoskr's eyes dim, fading to a smile. 'So few of them listen to everything you've found and had to share. So few of them care about how strong and interesting they are.'
 
  "..."
 
  'You don't want it to end. You don't want it to end because you like them. You like their world. You like everything in it, and the only way you know how to live with it is to fight with it.'
 
  Ratatoskr's head starts to turn towards that shadow of his.
 
  'You want to be a part of all that. Even the parts that are scary, ugly, and full of loss... because your own people are all but gone.'
 
  'Berserk will never get to tell you the story of how he met his end, after showing you so many of his victories.' By all external measures this is a net positive and it's not even close to being anything but, yet in this intimate space of loneliness...
 
  "Come on!!" Ratatoskr snaps, snapping out a kick that goes wide.
 
  'Come on...!' The battered shadow leans closer. 'Don't you want to see how it ends? What comes after with them, together?'
 
  Ratatoskr grows silent again, looks to the shadow, as a greater light starts to put a bit more texture and definition to this endlessness.
 
  "Yeah..." A more solemn voice from the surface Ratatoskr.
 
  'We'll both see what they say about us then...'
 
  Ratatoskr's descent transforms into a controlled gliding state, aligning with the ground at an angle and velocity that renders his landing safe enough.

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

The barrier rises, and Ida hunches behind it, staring mutely as the gathered shadows mount their assault. The sight of Eleanor's makes her heart tighten. Liath's shadow tries to soothe the pain, but Ida feels herself pulling away from it, trying to retreat into herself. Everyone's secrets are laid bare, including hers, and while both the calculating and empathetic parts of her know that this is insight, she can't bring herself to look for too long. As Varius' shadow tears into the hound with his bare hands, she looks away, hugging her chest with both arms. Magilou's shadow's words make her want to weep for what could have been. But then the massive shadow-machine catches her eye, and she can't look away. It's a Gear of some sort, almost certainly, but...

There's nothing but gaping emptiness where its cockpit should be.

Ida focuses on her breath as the others deal with the beasts. "These are our thoughts," Ida whispers. "They are not wicked. They are not sinful. They simply are." But even then, there are those who might be shocked and horrified regardless, and that simply is, too.

"Breathe," Ida says aloud. "Xiumei, hold on!" She reaches out for her fleeing friend, but then her right hand convulses again, and despair that is not hers washes up through the back of her mind. Ida grits her teeth, and struggles, but she can do nothing but ride it out. The sorceries of this place have quickened Fafnir's dreams, and dragged him towards wakefulness. Still clutching at her wrist, Ida shoots Magilou the ghost of a dry look, and steps across the threshold. She falls, and the darkness takes her.

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

"Idiot girl."

Ida falls, feet-first, and her shadow falls with her. It's lying on its side, facing away, as if sulking in bed. "When will you learn? You can't save this world. You can't even save yourself. All you do is kick and scream and wail while everything falls apart."

The shadow is saying the same things as that awful voice, but its tone is different. It seems frustrated--sad, even--whereas the voice is like a gramaphone playing a record composed entirely of loathing.

"You're afraid," Ida says. Her shadow whirls on its vertical axis, and glares at her, teeth bared.

"Do you think you can do this forever? The mighty hero, striding into the jaws of death and emerging victorious! I know you." The shadow is weeping, clenching its teeth. "This is for you. Every single time, you bleed and sweat and sob because you think you deserve it. Do you think anyone will forgive you? Do you think anyone will come and save you when your arrogance finally breaks you?"

Ida meets her shadow's gaze, and nods.

"Why?!" The shadow reaches out, hands clutching Ida's shoulders. "Why do you think we deserve this?! We've--we've hurt--"

"I know," Ida whispers. She pulls her shadow into her arms, her grip tight but gentle. "I know we're hurting. We never stopped. But you're me, and I'm you, and we need each other. I swore an Oath to aid those who were suffering, and that includes me. Us. I know it's hard. We have more than twenty years of pain to mend, but we have to keep going. One step at a time. I know I've gotten reckless. I know I've gotten angry. But that just means I'm a person."

"And what if we fail?"

"Then we get back up," Ida says, "and keep trying."

He falls. He's had falling dreams before--slipping off the edge of an icy ledge, or jumping out of a transport in mid-flight and failing to transform. This one is definitely stranger, because he's been arguing with himself for what feels like forever, trying to convince another, weaker him that he still has things to fight for. That he isn't finished yet. And now he's falling, and that other self falls with him, headfirst.

"Why aren't you listening to me? Aren't you sick of this?" Tears stream down his shadow's face. "Every time you stand up, they beat you down again. And now nobody's there to help you get back up. They killed Astrid, and Sieg, and Enki, and Etiri--"

"And me." Fafnir reaches out with both hands, a gesture of vulnerability. "But you know what I've realized?"

The shadow sniffles. It reaches out and grasps Fafnir's hands, clinging tightly to them; it is very much the frightened, runty young trainee he once was.

"I got another chance. It isn't much, but it's something. And there are people out there who are waiting for me--counting on me--to help. I can't turn away, even if I want to sleep forever. No matter how many times I fell down, I always got back up. And we need that now more than ever."

"All right," the shadow breathes. Its eyes are big and vulnerable. "I trust you."

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

They fall together. A fierce wind rises from below, limned with green. It catches Ida and her shadow, buoying them up, giving the shadow time to launch a thin, silvery line from an ARM at her waist. For a few moments, Ida feels someone else behind her, and when she looks over her shoulder, she sees a glimpse of crimson armor. It's gone in the next heartbeat, leaving her heart tight with grief and determination.

"You, too," Ida whispers. Tears flow, falling away from her face, into the wind. "All of us, then. Together."

<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

Some landings are a little rough-houseish -- some are feather-light. The dreaded stop at the end of the fall does little damage, either way. There is a save point in the antechamber, with a blue-to-green glyph glowing on gold square rings, for the restoration of HP and recording of data.

The data you've collected -- so much of it is personal. This was a journey to yourselves, focused inwards; a path of self-reflection, glimpsed at times by the friends beside you. And along that path, etched in stone...

Live with great vigor.

Hold hope for the world and for our future.

Live without hesitation.

Hold hope in your hearts.

Hold hope for tomorrow.

The Hero King's words... they must have meant something, once upon a time.

But... to whom..?

(TO BE CONTINUED...)