Your success in retrieving Knuckles has brought your three colorful allies back together, thus marking it a resounding success. Still, it's highly unlikely Eggman is going to overlook the destruction of his robots at that base or Knuckles going missing... But strangely, it seems as though life goes on as usual in Chicago.
The patrolling robots have had their numbers cut; a sign that you're doing something, at least. Unfortunately, the humans of this world still don't react to your presence at all, and there's no stopping the chroma slowly overtaking the city. More buildings and wildlife have been affected this week, even though Eggman hasn't set foot here. It's not exactly the most encouraging thing even if this weekend was a success.
THE CITY
Now that you're familiar with Chicago and how to find your way back to the base, you're free to explore as you see fit. You want to venture out into the suburbs? You want to take a day trip to wander even further out? Sure thing! Just be sure to let Tails know where you're going so he doesn't have a heart attack if someone goes missing.
While you're out exploring, you'll likely run across Knuckles or Sonic - both of whom will immediately beeline into the nearest robots to smash them with extreme prejudice. Regardless, they'll gladly help you if you need a hand with anything, or will otherwise carry out their tasks for Tails.
Unfortunately, the rest of the city is as lifeless as it was last week. The humans will scarcely pay attention to you, wildlife will go about lifelessly, and Eggman's unique white chrome slowly overtakes more of the city. In fact, some buildings seem to have been entirely renovated from last week - you'll find more and more "Eggman" versions of stores, attractions, and landmarks.
NIGHTMARES
The biggest difference this week has nothing to do with the world around you at large, however. Instead, you'll find your nights are far more difficult - for absolutely no reason that anyone can pinpoint. If you're lucky, you'll have unsettling dreams that leave you feeling a little worried when you wake, but otherwise fairly well rested.
If you're unlucky, you'll have horrific nightmares.
You may dream about an unwinnable battle - is it against hordes of robots? is it against your enemies back home? - where you simply don't have any choice but to fight, even though you know you can't win. The odds are stacked too high against you, no matter what you do. Will you give in? Will you fight?
You may dream about your fears - the things that threaten to seize you in a vicegrip and never let go. Are you scared of failure? Then you will experience your greatest failures in detail. Even the simplest, most mundane fears will be wildly twisted out of control - and you're powerless to wake yourself up, trapped within the dreams until the night is over and you finally, finally wake up.
You may dream about your past - whatever horrible incidents that haunt you or frighten you to think about will return in full force. These are never perfect recreations of the past, instead twisted facsimiles that only make those thoughts worse. Reliving it is one thing, but having the experience changed on you may be even worse.
Regardless of your dreams, you may find that you're not alone. Others here can be pulled into these dreams - trapped with you until either the dream ends and you wake up... or you die in the dream. Those seem to be the only ways out, no matter what you do. Still, having a buddy with you to help fight might help, right?
When you do wake up, you'll see blood red and you'll feel tired no matter how long you slept. Perhaps a nap is in order - but these dreams are just as likely to infect your naps as well.
SHARDS
You should feel fairly comfortable with using your shard power by now. You may also find that the more you use it, the more things you're able to do with it. Starting this week, your shards' powers are more pronounced, allowing you to do more with them than you could before.
As you fight with your allies - particularly those you have a close bond with, positive or negative - you may feel the tug of something in the back of your head; it tells you that you can do more. Together, you can become more powerful. You can use your shards together. Doing so will grant you a new power, or strengthen the one you already have. The more you trust one another, the easier this power will be to use.
It might be good to experiment with these new powers; after all, you never know when you may need them.
TAILS' TASKS
As mentioned to some of you, the rings that Sonic and friends use to hop between worlds have been dwindling in number, given how many were used to visit all of you and bring you in to begin with. Your job - should you choose to accept it - is to track down more rings. Tails will grant you with a tracking device that will allow you to find the exact locations of these rings. All you have to do is figure out how to get them.
Rings, as it turns out, are not quite as easy to collect as one would expect. They can appear anywhere throughout the city or the surrounding areas, but they always appear in some sort of frustrating place. Perhaps one has manifested at the top of a tree, or on top of the bean. Maybe it's hiding behind rows and rows of items in the W*lmart. Maybe you'll have to break into an employees' only room or a restricted area for one. Regardless, no ring is going to be simple to collect, and it's up to you to figure out how to get it. Every single ring counts, after all.
ENEMIES
This week's enemies are the same as last week's, though lesser in number. Like last week, you shouldn't let them escape, but you're growing stronger: they should be easier to beat than last week.
Badnik Surveillance Units are primarily made for reconnaissance. They can be found flying overhead, observing the people go about their lives and following scheduled flight paths and patterns to ensure every inch of the city is being observed. Well, mostly. You can find some back alleys and hidden spots here and there, and these Badniks usually won't go into buildings or out into the woods. They will immediately try to flee upon spotting you. They're easy to take down, though a bit more durable than one would expect, given Eggman's designs. If cornered, they are capable of shooting a simple laser beam that will hurt and possibly leave a burn.
Badnik Drones are the most common combat robot you will find. Small chrome white orbs with red eyes, they are capable of scanning and detecting abnormalities. They are not quite as common as the Badnik Surveillance Units, but you'll still spot several of them floating through the city at any given point in time. Unlike the Badnik Surveillance Units, these come ready for combat. They can fire lasers as well as shoot small homing missiles. The homing missiles thankfully aren't very fast and can be outrun or otherwise blocked, but they pack a punch if they do hit! These robots will stand their ground and fight if they spot you, but they will call for backup - if you aren't fast enough, you'll find yourself facing many of them!
The Badnik Transformer Model B33, more affectionately called Buzz Bombers by Tails and friends, is... well, it looks like a bee. A hornet, rather, as that stinger is actually a precision laser that moves fast. These robots typically look like Badnik Drones, but are capable of shifting and uncoiling themselves to become the B33 units. They are fast, they hit hard, and they are relentless, pursuing you nonstop until they've been destroyed. They will not call for backup, which is possibly the only saving grace about fighting them. Unfortunately, it's impossible to tell if a Badnik is a Drone or a B33 until you're actually in combat - and by then it may be(e) too late.
Badnik Tanks are mini... well, tanks. They stand about the size of a large dog and roll around on treads through the city. They're much rarer than the other robots, but it seems some have been sent to Chicago after the destruction of the base. These tanks are capable of shooting a large laser that deals significant damage to anyone it hits, and they're quite durable. When severely damaged, they start sparking - they'll explode when hit, and you probably don't want to be in melee range!
[ Who is this tiny little guy? No, it's very apparent as to who it is, isn't it? Vakama is so small, though! The silly thought runs through their mind, as they are unable to contain a chuckle or two.
Alright, on a serious note, Void Archives definitely decided to approach because they aren't the type of person to shy away from doing that, at the least.
Though, the grin they feel they're making is now absent in the form of the tug; the smile returns when they answer, however. ]
I'm trying to figure out what's going on. Not unreasonable, hm? There are strange happenings, after all...
[Oh it is immediately apparent that Vakama has no trouble recognizing them. Smaller or not, the vibrant glare of annoyance could pin it for him from miles away.]
...Of course it would be you.
[It's flat - less animosity, and more pure exhaustion, even as the air twists with Void Archive's own voice in painful weight.
--foolish
childish
how do you hope to--
Your mind tugs again, a painful jolt like lightning through the skull and neck. This close to Vakama, Void Archive will see his eyes shrink pinpoint for a moment, though he tries to shake it off just as he had done days ago.]
W-we can't just stand here.
Come on, follow me...
[White starts to flake away to metal streets, though the sides of your vision never get any clearer. The smell of smoke and molten metals thickens the air with warmth, the lighting going red and dark under towering cylindrical buildings, walkways that stacked on top of one another, foundries and conveyors, shipping and processing yards fenced up several stories, smokestacks that seem to stretch far off into the sky.
The district is cramped, but empty. Quiet.And every few steps, that pain flickers, and with it, so do the surroundings. Darkened skies. Destroyed catwalks. Enormous towers split down the middle and spilling their molten contents over miles and miles of buildings, the roar of fires and failing structures groaning like the cry of some far off dying animals, all as the sky rumbles.
Every flicker gets worse, like a warning bell in the mind, and it only seems to stop if Vakama halts completely.]
[ Damn, they were hoping that he wouldn't. Ah well.
They let out a huff, then. But, they are also not anticipating the bombardment of their own words back at them, making their expression also go carefully blank. Or maybe it isn't exactly so much as careful as more...thoughtful; perhaps a semblance of their own surprise.
They are very well capable of such clear emotion on their faces - but, here, it's just a different sort that doesn't draw it obviously to it. The reaction to before is also similar enough that they feel themselves tense. ]
Ta-Metru. It is... it used to be... my home. Broken apart by cataclysm.
[Signs of life echo like whispers of ghosts in admist the foundries and rubble, nameplates and personal touches, well worn metal underfoot, paint on bars worn down from constant usage, hundreds of carved tablets hung with everything from worksmans lists to accolades, banners hung with the district colors, enormous screens that once might have displayed something important, now cracked and blackened. Enormous support rings, once holding some sort of transportation chute system that stretched in every direction, now lay empty and cracking.
The more they walk, the more the rubble fills in. Wildlife making nests. Webs stringing together broken pipework. A deep, poisonous fog of green.
The voices twist, a mocking tone that is hard to pinpoint as genuine or not.
--you should not blame yourself
you are a mask maker
matoran in armor
let us praise these jesters
imposters
you are a mask maker
not a--
The ground snaps forward as though being yanked through space by an invisible hand. You feel unsteady and will need to catch yourself.
You can hear the echoes of reaction as you do so - warbled, confused, distant. Someone, somewhere, elsewhere.
The space you raise up into has has the ceiling ans one of the walls completely blown out, revealing the darkened sky and smoke filled walkways trailing up and up into forever. It's a foundry, an enormous forge set in the center with equipment and tools strung from every available piece of metal, parts and craftings and molds and masks scattered like so much debris.
At the foot of the ruins lies a sphere. The hatch is open, with lights blinking on and off. But the sphere itself looks empty.
Vakama's exhausted demenaour only deepens at the site of it, choosing to ignore as he tries to get a better view of his bearings. But surely it would be fine to take a closer look.
Surely you would trust your h̴̠̣̪̊̊e̸̯̚r̷̢̬̹̾o̷̻̭̭̾͑͂̓̋e̴̢̡̪̋̂̇̓ͅs̷̛͉͖̥̬̯̈́̓]
[ This must be truly a picture of what 'despair' must look like, if it were painted so thoroughly and completely for an audience; except that this, even if it's in a dreamscape, is a reality that Vakama once experienced.
They don't flinch back away from the fog; they are not afflicted by such things at all. Their normal body is all but immune to such unfortunate substances; and then they raise a brow as more of those voices filter in, and then they stumble in the next moment. Nothing can stop that from happening.
But, they do catch themselves.
Any feeling remotely close to perhaps assurance that all is fine, all is well makes them feel for once distinctly uncomfortable. ]
One moment. What is this?
[ They point to the sphere. ]
Who was responsible for this cataclysm? And those voices - do you hear them as well?
...Yes. I can hear it. Thought this... this is different than normal... [There's a hesitant pace to his words, like he's not used to having to explain any of this.
Still, his eyes trace backwards towards the sphere again. There's a cold feeling of dread.
"Storage containers?"
"--No-- t-the Matoran, they're in danger--"
"What? What do you see--"
It's a sudden flash of an image, another flash of that vivid pain. Storage containers for miles and miles, up and down into infinity, sealed up tight, filled with
curled limbs
dim heartbeats
cold bodies
--
"Nothing. Nothing, sister.
Nothing at all."
...
Vakama's expression falls somber.]
...
It's a trap.
[Who was responsible?
(2)
Void Archive will get a nice visual head-start of the enormous, twisted tendril of shadow and plant matter that rises from the rubble and immediately snaps to grab at them.
[ They aren't so used to the constant pain that accompanies the visions - it's starting to get grating. Is this a common situation for Vakama, they wonder?
His words seem to imply such and this makes it less as an unfortunate side effect of the nightmare, and instead something else entirely.
Rather another element of himself that's likely been with him for quite a long time. Is it connected to that whole entire breakdown he had before as well? They don't rule it out. Regardless, none of the disorientation is enough to shake them - rather, they are forced to refocus on the situation in front of them rather than ponder.
It helps that the head-start is enough for the blond to act. ]
Hurry up and move out of the way, Vakama. I assume you don't want to end up snapped in twain even in a dream~?
[ They do so themselves (18), expecting the Bionicle to follow, and then toss a blast of light at the creature to try to hit or distract it. Whatever works, that's the ideal for them. ]
[The burst of light slams right into its target, writhing and slithering backwards. Vakama clearly sees it, backing up to try and grab something to defend himself with off the benches. But a second tendril whips up to snake around the Matoran's ankle, slamming him against the top of the forge.
Answer, Vakama.
It's a voice that echoes from nowhere, piercing but echoing. A reverberation, not a source.
we're wasting time--
--hunting down just because of--
--so sure about this--
Who is responsible?
The heat starts to rise suddenly. Drastically.
As Void Archive steps further in their dodging, the surroundings morph again - the wreck of an enormous open furnace almost unfathomably tall, s̸͕͓̄ǒ̴̱̪͈̠͌͐ṁ̸̛̠͌̑ḙ̷͍̺͂̿̕͝ť̶̫͌̊h̸̛̛͓͓͈̾̒į̵̘͙͉̀̈n̴̢̩͉̺̏̎̀g̵̨̙̎ boiling in its catastrophic flames.
With a whipping snap, Vakama is fully thrown across the room like a ragdoll.
What time was wasted in your incessant searching?
What lives brought to suffer?
For a split second, as Vakama struggles to his feet, his form flickers to normal -- stumbling towards VA, a hand outstretched that wraps with building, swirling fire. But that same shadowed tendril grips him tight by the waist, and his form changes right back, yelling and shoving for purchase as he's lifted right back into the air.
Void Archive will find their limbs drawn down on the spot in a rain of unavoidable projectiles. Hundreds of thousands of seeded capsules fall from the ceiling; cracking open where they land, growing quickly like a mass of writhing, multiplying snakes of rot and plant and darkness, grasping out to wrap them still and drag them to their death.
No matter whether they act or stay still, their power is draining without replenishment.]
[ What in the name of...no, what even is that? Vakama's mortal enemy? Or a shade borne completely from his own mind? Regardless, Void Archives will have the response in mind as they let out a sigh. ]
Your mind is your own worst enemy, Vakama.
[ They simply say, in the face of all this. It's an incredibly intense nightmare, giving little space for thought - if they weren't an intelligent lifeform capable of thinking swifter than most. But, is that a bonus or a con, when the road forward isn't exactly clear? They can certainly attack.
Which, well, if the projectiles are unavoidable, that doesn't really matter all that much. They will simply summon as big as an energetic light from themselves as possible, expanding outwards from themselves; incandescent and merciless.
Bright enough to blind, adverse enough to cause some kind of immediate damage. All in efforts to make them draw away from the blond even as they aim to cling to their limbs.
They are going to try to reach Vakama after that. They need to free him. ]
Get a hold over yourself. Are you going to drown in those questions? Or, will you rise up and face them properly?
Otherwise, you will never conquer this nightmare.
[ Despite their words, Void Archives does feel something like uncertainty. Everything is so chaotic that they're less than 50% sure that what they're saying will reach him. Not to mention, the odds are stacked against them with an enemy who has an innumerable amount of 'allies' here.
And they can feel themselves draining for some reason. They're definitely on a small time limit; if Vakama isn't able to participate properly in this tussle, this is going to become painful real fast. (They question why they bother to fight futilely in dreams like these, but really. Letting themselves be tossed around or hit and whatnot is not their first thought.) ]
[The dome of light does at least get them some protection and keeps them from being pinned on the spot, but the expenditure of such a large amount only seems to weaken them faster. The movement through the growing sea of vines drags like quicksand, the heat sweltering.
Void Archive prods, pointedly, and in the flash of annoyance Vakama once again flickers back to his original Toa form for a brief moment. He squirms for purchase, hands planting to the vine tightly tied to his waist with white-hot heat, but it only seems to squeeze him tighter in response.]
Ghh -- what do you think I'm trying to do--
[It's getting hard to breathe, and as his form once again flickers back to a Matoran, the pressure only that much greater under diminished size. Suffocating, suffocating.
--Vakama, are you sure about this--]
I did the--- the best I could, I--
[The floor dips out beneath them both as the surroundings snap to black.
There is no time to catch their breath. Their bodies will both ricochet off repeated hard surfaces of metal, of a grand flooring split into hexagonal shapes, shooting up in columns, tossing them about like dolls, slamming them into high stone walls under the jeering boos of a crowd.
--The heart of Metru Nui, do you have it safe?--
You're too exhausted to do anything but withstand it. Your powers spark but no longer answer. Ghost-like forms of your fellow shard-carrying teammates pick themselves up off the floor, beaten and barely on their feet.
Someone high above you laughs.
"Let us praise these jesters. Perhaps they sought to entertain us during this difficult time.
Or, are they imposters? Responsible for our true Toa's demise?"
The sounds of the unseen crowd roar in fury.
All the effort to be made a fool.
Half your teammates go flying backward to vanish into an unseen space beyond, pulled by the wind itself. The rest scramble for one another, for their weapons, for an escape, as an enormous swarm of robots marches in advance on them.
For people saw true colors, not your empty attempts.
You can do nothing but run. Run. Run, hide, search through muddied dark spaces with your bare hands. You're exhausted. You're all so exhausted.
Empty attempts. Misguided efforts.
The jeering echos of the crowd slowly die to eerie silence. The clicking hiss of a hatch unlocks in the outstretched darkness. An empty sphere, mocking, as lighting starts to crack overhead.
--Tell me, Vakama. The heart of Metru Nui, do you have it safe?--]
Th--- There was no way I could have known! [An angry, desperate snap up into the void, where the stars of the sky seem to black out in response, two glorious suns eclipsing as though the universe has shut its eyes to their efforts.] We tried! I tried!
[You fled.
The sound of a violent sea crashes in their ears, surrounded by darkened rock pitted by centuries of waves. A body, golden and feeble and frail, ricochets past them in the dark with a trail of dark energy, immediately drawing Vakama's attention with a choke of distress.
To the ends of the silver sea, leaving your people behind. Suffering for sake of your cowardice.
Void Archive will see an enormous claw of shadow reaching out beyond the sea like a giant swatting a fly, intent on smashing them against the sea wall.]
[ Well, unfortunately they saw no other option. Though they are actually kind of irritated that it saps their strength quicker.
Void Archives feels themselves disorientated after the next alteration of their surroundings thanks to the floor situation and everything else, leaving little time for the blond to immediately say something else - anything, really.
Except at one point they quickly slide in this gem: ]
Honestly, have you ever thought of telling that thing to shut up?
[ They run a hand through their blond hair - sweat on their brow from the uncomfortable heat, and were they a lesser individual they imagine they might have simply gone mad, shouting when besieged on all sides by this. If anything, this is informative - painting a story indeed. Of sudden betrayal of people Vakama thought were allies - and it seems he blames himself for the turmoil experienced by his actual allies for this. ]
It keeps spewing nonsense. If you get caught up in this wave, even you won't be able to save yourself.
Keep objecting.
[ They click their tongue, moving quickly, this time managing to move out of the way (11); they're not so exhausted that they can't manage that.
They're also not so exhausted to try to use some expenditure of light energy to toss another energy blast towards the enemy where they saw the claw come from. ]
And keep fighting too. Show your conviction with your strength, won't you?
[They slip out of the way just enough, the air crackling around them with how close the blow comes before the dark appendage crashes fully into the sea wall with a thunderous boom, a rain of rock and mud collapsing into the sea as it withdraws. The energy blast flies wild into the formless dark, but seems to be devoured.
The pain flickers violently with a coldness that sinks into the chest.
YOU CANNOT DESTROY ME.
NO MORE THAN YOU CAN DESTROY THE SEA
OR THE WIND
OR THE VOID
I AM NOTHING.
AND FROM NOTHING, YOU WERE BORN
AND INTO NOTHING, YOU SHALL RETURN.
It's hard to see if Vakama has even heard Void Archive's admonishments at first. He stays frozen, eyes still stuck on the maskless body lying broken and barely visible in the darkness.
"That was meant for me."
Murderer.
His breath catches.
"Keep objecting."]
No -- no, no, n-no, that wasn't me. [The rock starts to dissolve into itself, a dizzied run of spiraling tunnels] That wasn't me!
[You fail him more if you continue to refuse.
Your confines feel claustrophobic and foreign from all sides, smelling of earth and ocean, horrifically dark. And while the comments have been mocking, now they grow genuinely angry.
--who died and made you Mata Nui anyway--?
--you're not the only one trying--
--maybe if this wasn't coming from a leader who doesn't know when to quit--
--we can't keep going like this, Vakama!!--
Arrogance.
Recklessness.
Foolish, childish decisions.
(for a moment, just a moment, as though in Void Archive's own voice)
The poisonous fog that had laid out in that cityscape returns, thick and suffocating, before Void Archive drops - suddenly all alone - straight into the depths of an angry, stormy sea, the battered parts of a craft pushed too far sinking slowly into the rocking depths beyond them.
And where did that lead you?
Guilt disguised as bravery, your chest raised with eyes blinded.
Another jerking lunge, and they're now washed on the shore of a beach filled with nothing but rubble. A skyline that criss-crosses with thick webs. A stillness broken only by the deafening roars and cries of wildlife that had not been there before.
And Vakama stands, at the precipice of the nearest hill, looking down towards Void Archive with an expression of nauseated regret, even as his own voice echoes, unattached, off in the distance with an almost pompous arrogance, the voices mumbling constant and increasing disapprovals through the air.
As though you could drown it all out.
As though your bold words could change any of it.
"Are we going to stand around all night? Nothing changes! We go to the Coliseum, we rescue the Matoran, and we leave!
[ Despite the pain that arrives with their attempt, the words thrown at them, Void Archives' expression is nothing less than amused. Is that no defiance in the face of its hideous claims? Whether or not these are true, they would enjoy to trample all over this thing. To show Vakama how little power it truly held; only it is now a fleeting illusion. Made to hang on to the Bionicle in his subconscious and cling somewhere deep inside - only to be pulled out forcibly and involve themselves in this mess.
But what throws them even more than the visions hurled towards Vakama made to sink in claws further is how this thing sounds like their voice. The knowledge burns that they are being used against Vakama like this. As if they themselves self-sabotaged their own efforts (though they don't dare drown in self-pity. Rather, a sense of irritability...and acknowledgement that they are needlessly projecting. These are Vakama's insecurities; he must face them accordingly.)
After the moment which delays their response accordingly, they ignore the call to rush into the unknown. Instead, they stalk towards Vakama with a purpose. How irritating. Must they be expected to follow each piece like some kind of puppet? ]
Why do you look at me like that? If you hold something akin to regret for involving me in this, how about we put an end to this right here, hm?
Nothing changes from simply standing around. Yet, how many times will you let yourself be tortured by your own mind?
If this script must continue, then remember I'm hardly here to be strung along right alongside you.
However, I won't let it end with you catatonic. I'll drag you through this myself to a reasonable conclusion instead of a pitiful end if I have to.
[He stays still against his seat against the rubble, stiffening the closer that Void Archive gets. A dread will fill them - if they get too close, there will be no turning back.
The words are spit out towards him without interruption, the Matoran's expression simply thinning, cold. Deep irritation that zips up tight as he glances back out towards the unknown, to the ghost that moves forward.]
I do not have the say in this that you think I do.
Isn't this where you're supposed to say something inspiring like one of those individuals from a story about rallying against the darkness of your mind?
Nonsense about persevering through such burdens?
As much as this dialogue is insisting you're a terrible waste of space, you were clearly working rather diligently. Yes, I'm hardly surprised you acted a fool at times, and I have no desire to ignore that. Yet, I also feel as if you should tell that voice rallying against you to shut up.
Only even louder. It's hardly equal if there's only criticism. Not to mention, it's putting me through this nonsense as well. To the point that even I'm unwilling to agree with it, even where there could be sound logic.
Besides, there is that damned nonsense about it being from the void...I did wish to comment on that as well. Do you know how ridiculous that sounded? After all, I am the Void Archives - I should know a thing or two about that, if not more than whatever it thinks it should be.
[ As they say this, they brush at their clothing, trying to get whatever sand clinging to them off or whatnot. Honestly, they're not one for powerful emotional declarations, but despite the fact that the two of them solidly don't get along, they don't feel restrained in holding back their words. Though that is how they usually are. ]
He simply looks off in the direction of his own ghost.]
Believe me. I have tried.
I don't like filling my companions with empty words. Not unless I believe that what I am saying is the truth. To say things to oneself is...
[Different. But there isn't an argument to be had here. Void Archive isn't speaking falsehoods, given that the normal annoyance on his face smooths out to simple trepidation.
Well. Until that line about the Void. Then he just rolls his eyes.]
Not my words, so take it up with the Makuta. I can't decide if you would get along with him, despise him, or if the two of you would just talk one another to death.
I knew it was something you wouldn't have dared to think yourself. You don't seem the type to say things like "I am the Alpha and the Omega" or whatever such nonsense.
My condolences, truly. What a pity you had to deal with such a being! While I imagine I would have engaged him in talk, we would have come to a large split in differing perspectives, I imagine.
...I also can't say I'm surprised you would prefer to be honest.
But was I wrong? I'd say think on it, but then I'm uncertain if you'd just keep thinking on it forever.
Besides, I believe you know as well as I do that if you speak from the heart, even staring death in the face seems trivial and possible to overcome~
Still, I can talk all day, but it is you who has to have the wherewithal to pick up any such belief in yourself.
[ ...
But, well, Void Archives is passing him a smug little expression, for another reason entirely, though of course still connected. ]
I suppose I've bought enough time for now. Having a little breather isn't too bad, is it? ...So, shall we? Or perhaps you can think of another way forward?
With how little I even know about you or your motivations, I can't say I'd agree one way or the other. [It's about as close as he's going to get in outright admitting of how strikingly Void Archive reminds him of Makuta on the surface. Egotistical. Flaunting. Obsessed with knowledge. Unable or unwilling to put things plainly without degrading the subject of their monologuing. And, at least at face value, perfectly willing to let others be expendable for their own desires, until they were personally offended by the results.
...]
It is not myself I'm worried about. [This onslaught is not new. These feelings are not new. It is their consequences.] And there is no other way.
A vision... does not care for choice.
[But if Void Archive has decided they're bored... then Vakama can't delay the inevitable any longer.]
[Vakama stumbles to his feet. Unwilling, but moving regardless, like pulled on a puppet string.
You follow, right behind the lingering ghost of a figure with the bold voice of the Toa who does not listen; every step unsteady, on a path crumbling underfoot, as the fog grows denser amidst the buildings. A monument, a grave, more than a city.
Vakama tenses, a choking sound and a curling of his fists as though he's trying to say something. But it's robbed of him.
You follow.
You see energy crackle forward through the bare air to hit the ghost of your leader.
And only a moment later, your own body is hit, going completely rigid against your will.
Paralysis.
You crumple. All you hear is an absence. Too silent. Far, far too silent.
--everyone okay--
right behind you, fearless leader... literally--
bickering won't get us out of this--
noooo, but think-talking before charging straight into a TRAP might have--
Your eyes scan frantically. You see the bodies of so many of your fellow shardbearers.
Nothing.
You can't do anything.
The swarm quickly overtakes you.
It overtakes all of them.
Not even willing to face the consequences, even now.
Teeth bite, webbing pulls, tighter and tighter until every surface both metal and organic starts to give, starts to prick - barbs, hundreds upon thousands, sinking into every inch of you with the burning rush of venom.
Every pounding of your head riles you up. Panic, that grows, less like yourself, less sentient, less in control, and more like--
The change happens without warning. A ripple effect, in one limb, that rapidly moves down the body you cannot see in the tightened trapping of your cocoon. Metal and muscle suddenly twist. Crack. Bending out of shape to reform to another. Bulging, adding, changing. Armor merges with structure, masks sinking to join with faces, chest expanding as limbs outstretch and your mind twists ferally within your skull.
Your mouth opens to scream. A strangled roar rips from your throat instead.
Your cocoon rips to open air. You free fall, from the highest point of the city.
You hit the ground, somehow not dying from the impact. Your body moves awkwardly. Primal. Unbalanced. Instinct over your mind. The tunnel vision can't be ignored.
But Vakama is there. Still a Matoran, with his hands held in front of you placatingly, as though trying to prevent you from running.
He exhales as his eyes travel Void Archive, tense. Apologetic. You feel the growl in your throat against your will.]
...This. This is what I...
[What he was worried about. What he didn't want to repeat. But his eyes grow cold, resentful, tracing down for a second to try and compose himself before turning back to... what used to be Void Archive.]
[ Something uncomfortable swells in them upon seeing the scenery before them. The familiar faces, though fortunately despite the internal thoughts - the words and sensations going through them - their own mind thinks far quicker, far swifter. They reach the conclusion it can't be real.
But then there's something else more pressing.
A change that takes over them so thoroughly and horribly...
Void Archives can't do much about it - though they aren't exactly the type of person to vocalize such loud noises, there is a flurry of everything all at once. A loss of control so integral to their being that they suddenly can't process anything - or rather, they are understanding and concluding far too much at once.
Then, when they come to their senses, they're changed...(but a bit more 'furrier', so please imagine a spiked tail of some sort.) ]
I hear you.
[ The voice is devoid of all the playfulness that usually accompanies it, the sound almost incomprehensible, as if speaking another language - but, Vakama can understand it. The words fall together in a snap, less controlled; with far less finesse. ]
Another trick, I presume. Yet, I see that look in your eyes...do you believe that I would succumb to it?
[ Void Archives talks without a single tremble in their tone; they seem to be keeping their cool. Though, they know they don't look like how they normally do; they don't even want to look at themselves. Their emotions are rising to a sudden fever pitch because this is treading - has crossed - into a violation of their own self. Yet, this isn't real...but, a part of that tunnel vision is them focusing on that misfortune. ]
[Void Archive Hordika fits right at home with that design, look at them :')
Vakama doesn't flinch at the question, a flicker of slight relief that Void Archive even responds at all. There's no concern at the change of pitch, the change of attitude, still them but slightly askew.
He knows this well, after all. What the venom changed. How... different it made it, to feel, to process.]
...Even the most logical of minds can. Yours is not an exception.
I'm sorry... out of anything, this is... this is not what I ever wanted to see repeated.
But it's going to be all right.
[--how are we supposed to--
--you call THIS all right???--
The sounds of others crawling to unsteady feet seems to echo. In pain. Confused. Horrified.
Furious.
Moving away, further and further.
Not from Void Archive, for Void Archive will find that foreign hands twist against their foreign, twisted frame, urging them backwards. Stay with the group. Stay together.
It is Vakama that is left to stand alone.
As the Matoran realizes what's starting to happen, his expression grows firm, reaching a hand out to try and break the distance, attempting to grab for Void Archive's arm.]
No. No, not again. We are not doing this again, I won't--
[The hold reaches. But something gets to Vakama first.
You know that isn't how this works.
The pain flashes. A twist of the space, the light, and a disformed figure drops down from the webs with frightening speed, snapping gnarled fingers onto the Matoran's skull, hoisting him up off the ground as he yelps.
[It's almost incredulous. So incredibly bitter. Animosity building, amplified.] Towering, mocking, like all that matters to those mortal beings underneath you is nothing but a plaything.
Perhaps this will come to suit you. It is the kind of "hero" we are, after all. You and I.
The ones who will always find ourselves separate. The ones who destroy all we touch.
[--who have you been TALKING to, Vakama, who's put these thoughts into your head--
A breath rolls out, a rolling growl. Ignoring the voices. Uncaring.]
Or would you call that all a trick as well? The way you speak. Your refusal to care.
What clarity do you even think you find, when all you provide is pointless noise?
They stare at Vakama blankly as he says that. Is...he trying to comfort them? Ah, well, they hadn't expected that.
Maybe he has a point. They're not feeling all that well for obvious reasons, but they refuse to be deadweight. They don't feel as strong as they thought they were (were they ever? They could never overpower Otto, could not stop their creator from shutting them down or sealing them. They may have an intelligent mind, may be stubborn, but their will is nowhere near as powerful as Welt Yang's.
Still...)
For a moment, they huff. Forcing themselves to clash against the foothold that has been deeply entranced in their mind, Void Archives tries to quickly start speaking faster than the intrusive thoughts can disrupt their programming: ]
Please. I don't need such assurances. Hmph, do you want to know why I said all of those things before? I'll tell you...despite everything, I did actually personally believe that you co—
[ This is where they're about to say something else within that. Who knows, only God does especially since suddenly everything begins to fall flat. It seems that the universe is completely against any semblance of good - or rather...the nightmare. Is that much of a surprise, in a place that twists one's fears, their emotions, their entire beings?
[ ...Something unfamiliar stands before their very eyes. Except that this unfamiliarity has some semblance of familiarity.
But, it doesn't matter now. Especially when it - Vakama? - starts to speak these words unbidden, harsher than anything than before.
Void Archives gives pause.
Then, they just start to laugh hard and long in 'Vakama's face. The distortion increases the volume and harshness by it by far instead of the light sound of their usual vocalized amusement.
...Finally, after a bit of time, they stop. ]
Really? Is that all that you have?
[ Of course we couldn't understand each other, comes the bitter thought. They had thought it possible in that training courtyard because their being had been poisoned by the idea of trying to consider the idea. Whenever they tried to open up, every time without fail they found themselves realizing that they were better off keeping that distance from others. Where had they gotten the idea that anyone would wish to truly reach that level of knowing?
To even potentially bridge the scorched earth that they themselves had made in lack of their initial desire to reach out to others. This feeling...that idea of wanting to never be alone again...
They will discard it. And destroy everything in the way. ]
Ah, well. I will grant you one thing...
Yes, I am the type of individual to destroy everything I touch. [ The image of the Sky People's invasion to the world come to mind. ] Though, I see no reason to change that.
I suppose you must be desperate, aren't you? To think that you can hurl such words at me and have them mean anything.
[ Then, they say something encouraged by that normally absent animal instinct to hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, and rip it all apart: ]
You are as foolish as this place has deemed you. A failure trying to lecture someone who is your better.
[The Matoran lays still, even as the air grows that much colder with their words.
The mangled form of Vakama crashes down from above with all sense lost for any sort of surprise (1)(3), a FURIOUS roar ripping out as he dives at Void Archive. To pin, to choke, to kill - unclear, unplanned, an attack out of rage and nothing else.
Very well. Then let him be the monster, if he cannot be anything else.]
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ii;
Alright, on a serious note, Void Archives definitely decided to approach because they aren't the type of person to shy away from doing that, at the least.
Though, the grin they feel they're making is now absent in the form of the tug; the smile returns when they answer, however. ]
I'm trying to figure out what's going on. Not unreasonable, hm? There are strange happenings, after all...
no subject
...Of course it would be you.
[It's flat - less animosity, and more pure exhaustion, even as the air twists with Void Archive's own voice in painful weight.
--foolish
childish
how do you hope to--
Your mind tugs again, a painful jolt like lightning through the skull and neck. This close to Vakama, Void Archive will see his eyes shrink pinpoint for a moment, though he tries to shake it off just as he had done days ago.]
W-we can't just stand here.
Come on, follow me...
[White starts to flake away to metal streets, though the sides of your vision never get any clearer. The smell of smoke and molten metals thickens the air with warmth, the lighting going red and dark under towering cylindrical buildings, walkways that stacked on top of one another, foundries and conveyors, shipping and processing yards fenced up several stories, smokestacks that seem to stretch far off into the sky.
The district is cramped, but empty. Quiet.And every few steps, that pain flickers, and with it, so do the surroundings. Darkened skies. Destroyed catwalks. Enormous towers split down the middle and spilling their molten contents over miles and miles of buildings, the roar of fires and failing structures groaning like the cry of some far off dying animals, all as the sky rumbles.
Every flicker gets worse, like a warning bell in the mind, and it only seems to stop if Vakama halts completely.]
no subject
They let out a huff, then. But, they are also not anticipating the bombardment of their own words back at them, making their expression also go carefully blank. Or maybe it isn't exactly so much as careful as more...thoughtful; perhaps a semblance of their own surprise.
They are very well capable of such clear emotion on their faces - but, here, it's just a different sort that doesn't draw it obviously to it. The reaction to before is also similar enough that they feel themselves tense. ]
What's all of this? What happened?
no subject
[Signs of life echo like whispers of ghosts in admist the foundries and rubble, nameplates and personal touches, well worn metal underfoot, paint on bars worn down from constant usage, hundreds of carved tablets hung with everything from worksmans lists to accolades, banners hung with the district colors, enormous screens that once might have displayed something important, now cracked and blackened. Enormous support rings, once holding some sort of transportation chute system that stretched in every direction, now lay empty and cracking.
The more they walk, the more the rubble fills in. Wildlife making nests. Webs stringing together broken pipework. A deep, poisonous fog of green.
The voices twist, a mocking tone that is hard to pinpoint as genuine or not.
--you should not blame yourself
you are a mask maker
matoran in armor
let us praise these jesters
imposters
you are a mask maker
not a--
The ground snaps forward as though being yanked through space by an invisible hand. You feel unsteady and will need to catch yourself.
You can hear the echoes of reaction as you do so - warbled, confused, distant. Someone, somewhere, elsewhere.
The space you raise up into has has the ceiling ans one of the walls completely blown out, revealing the darkened sky and smoke filled walkways trailing up and up into forever. It's a foundry, an enormous forge set in the center with equipment and tools strung from every available piece of metal, parts and craftings and molds and masks scattered like so much debris.
At the foot of the ruins lies a sphere. The hatch is open, with lights blinking on and off. But the sphere itself looks empty.
Vakama's exhausted demenaour only deepens at the site of it, choosing to ignore as he tries to get a better view of his bearings. But surely it would be fine to take a closer look.
Surely you would trust your h̴̠̣̪̊̊e̸̯̚r̷̢̬̹̾o̷̻̭̭̾͑͂̓̋e̴̢̡̪̋̂̇̓ͅs̷̛͉͖̥̬̯̈́̓]
no subject
They don't flinch back away from the fog; they are not afflicted by such things at all. Their normal body is all but immune to such unfortunate substances; and then they raise a brow as more of those voices filter in, and then they stumble in the next moment. Nothing can stop that from happening.
But, they do catch themselves.
Any feeling remotely close to perhaps assurance that all is fine, all is well makes them feel for once distinctly uncomfortable. ]
One moment. What is this?
[ They point to the sphere. ]
Who was responsible for this cataclysm? And those voices - do you hear them as well?
no subject
Still, his eyes trace backwards towards the sphere again. There's a cold feeling of dread.
"Storage containers?"
"--No-- t-the Matoran, they're in danger--"
"What? What do you see--"
It's a sudden flash of an image, another flash of that vivid pain. Storage containers for miles and miles, up and down into infinity, sealed up tight, filled with
curled limbs
dim heartbeats
cold bodies
--
"Nothing. Nothing, sister.
Nothing at all."
...
Vakama's expression falls somber.]
...
It's a trap.
[Who was responsible?
(2)
Void Archive will get a nice visual head-start of the enormous, twisted tendril of shadow and plant matter that rises from the rubble and immediately snaps to grab at them.
no subject
His words seem to imply such and this makes it less as an unfortunate side effect of the nightmare, and instead something else entirely.
Rather another element of himself that's likely been with him for quite a long time. Is it connected to that whole entire breakdown he had before as well? They don't rule it out. Regardless, none of the disorientation is enough to shake them - rather, they are forced to refocus on the situation in front of them rather than ponder.
It helps that the head-start is enough for the blond to act. ]
Hurry up and move out of the way, Vakama. I assume you don't want to end up snapped in twain even in a dream~?
[ They do so themselves (18), expecting the Bionicle to follow, and then toss a blast of light at the creature to try to hit or distract it. Whatever works, that's the ideal for them. ]
cw fires, tentacle/snake imagery just to be safe
Answer, Vakama.
It's a voice that echoes from nowhere, piercing but echoing. A reverberation, not a source.
we're wasting time--
--hunting down just because of--
--so sure about this--
Who is responsible?
The heat starts to rise suddenly. Drastically.
As Void Archive steps further in their dodging, the surroundings morph again - the wreck of an enormous open furnace almost unfathomably tall, s̸͕͓̄ǒ̴̱̪͈̠͌͐ṁ̸̛̠͌̑ḙ̷͍̺͂̿̕͝ť̶̫͌̊h̸̛̛͓͓͈̾̒į̵̘͙͉̀̈n̴̢̩͉̺̏̎̀g̵̨̙̎ boiling in its catastrophic flames.
With a whipping snap, Vakama is fully thrown across the room like a ragdoll.
What time was wasted in your incessant searching?
What lives brought to suffer?
For a split second, as Vakama struggles to his feet, his form flickers to normal -- stumbling towards VA, a hand outstretched that wraps with building, swirling fire. But that same shadowed tendril grips him tight by the waist, and his form changes right back, yelling and shoving for purchase as he's lifted right back into the air.
Void Archive will find their limbs drawn down on the spot in a rain of unavoidable projectiles. Hundreds of thousands of seeded capsules fall from the ceiling; cracking open where they land, growing quickly like a mass of writhing, multiplying snakes of rot and plant and darkness, grasping out to wrap them still and drag them to their death.
No matter whether they act or stay still, their power is draining without replenishment.]
no subject
Your mind is your own worst enemy, Vakama.
[ They simply say, in the face of all this. It's an incredibly intense nightmare, giving little space for thought - if they weren't an intelligent lifeform capable of thinking swifter than most. But, is that a bonus or a con, when the road forward isn't exactly clear? They can certainly attack.
Which, well, if the projectiles are unavoidable, that doesn't really matter all that much. They will simply summon as big as an energetic light from themselves as possible, expanding outwards from themselves; incandescent and merciless.
Bright enough to blind, adverse enough to cause some kind of immediate damage. All in efforts to make them draw away from the blond even as they aim to cling to their limbs.
They are going to try to reach Vakama after that. They need to free him. ]
Get a hold over yourself. Are you going to drown in those questions? Or, will you rise up and face them properly?
Otherwise, you will never conquer this nightmare.
[ Despite their words, Void Archives does feel something like uncertainty. Everything is so chaotic that they're less than 50% sure that what they're saying will reach him. Not to mention, the odds are stacked against them with an enemy who has an innumerable amount of 'allies' here.
And they can feel themselves draining for some reason. They're definitely on a small time limit; if Vakama isn't able to participate properly in this tussle, this is going to become painful real fast. (They question why they bother to fight futilely in dreams like these, but really. Letting themselves be tossed around or hit and whatnot is not their first thought.) ]
no subject
Void Archive prods, pointedly, and in the flash of annoyance Vakama once again flickers back to his original Toa form for a brief moment. He squirms for purchase, hands planting to the vine tightly tied to his waist with white-hot heat, but it only seems to squeeze him tighter in response.]
Ghh -- what do you think I'm trying to do--
[It's getting hard to breathe, and as his form once again flickers back to a Matoran, the pressure only that much greater under diminished size. Suffocating, suffocating.
--Vakama, are you sure about this--]
I did the--- the best I could, I--
[The floor dips out beneath them both as the surroundings snap to black.
There is no time to catch their breath. Their bodies will both ricochet off repeated hard surfaces of metal, of a grand flooring split into hexagonal shapes, shooting up in columns, tossing them about like dolls, slamming them into high stone walls under the jeering boos of a crowd.
--The heart of Metru Nui, do you have it safe?--
You're too exhausted to do anything but withstand it. Your powers spark but no longer answer. Ghost-like forms of your fellow shard-carrying teammates pick themselves up off the floor, beaten and barely on their feet.
Someone high above you laughs.
"Let us praise these jesters. Perhaps they sought to entertain us during this difficult time.
Or, are they imposters? Responsible for our true Toa's demise?"
The sounds of the unseen crowd roar in fury.
All the effort to be made a fool.
Half your teammates go flying backward to vanish into an unseen space beyond, pulled by the wind itself. The rest scramble for one another, for their weapons, for an escape, as an enormous swarm of robots marches in advance on them.
For people saw true colors, not your empty attempts.
You can do nothing but run. Run. Run, hide, search through muddied dark spaces with your bare hands. You're exhausted. You're all so exhausted.
Empty attempts. Misguided efforts.
The jeering echos of the crowd slowly die to eerie silence. The clicking hiss of a hatch unlocks in the outstretched darkness. An empty sphere, mocking, as lighting starts to crack overhead.
--Tell me, Vakama. The heart of Metru Nui, do you have it safe?--]
Th--- There was no way I could have known! [An angry, desperate snap up into the void, where the stars of the sky seem to black out in response, two glorious suns eclipsing as though the universe has shut its eyes to their efforts.] We tried! I tried!
[You fled.
The sound of a violent sea crashes in their ears, surrounded by darkened rock pitted by centuries of waves. A body, golden and feeble and frail, ricochets past them in the dark with a trail of dark energy, immediately drawing Vakama's attention with a choke of distress.
To the ends of the silver sea, leaving your people behind. Suffering for sake of your cowardice.
Void Archive will see an enormous claw of shadow reaching out beyond the sea like a giant swatting a fly, intent on smashing them against the sea wall.]
no subject
Void Archives feels themselves disorientated after the next alteration of their surroundings thanks to the floor situation and everything else, leaving little time for the blond to immediately say something else - anything, really.
Except at one point they quickly slide in this gem: ]
Honestly, have you ever thought of telling that thing to shut up?
[ They run a hand through their blond hair - sweat on their brow from the uncomfortable heat, and were they a lesser individual they imagine they might have simply gone mad, shouting when besieged on all sides by this. If anything, this is informative - painting a story indeed. Of sudden betrayal of people Vakama thought were allies - and it seems he blames himself for the turmoil experienced by his actual allies for this. ]
It keeps spewing nonsense. If you get caught up in this wave, even you won't be able to save yourself.
Keep objecting.
[ They click their tongue, moving quickly, this time managing to move out of the way (11); they're not so exhausted that they can't manage that.
They're also not so exhausted to try to use some expenditure of light energy to toss another energy blast towards the enemy where they saw the claw come from. ]
And keep fighting too. Show your conviction with your strength, won't you?
Really, now is the time to fight back harder.
no subject
The pain flickers violently with a coldness that sinks into the chest.
YOU CANNOT DESTROY ME.
NO MORE THAN YOU CAN DESTROY THE SEA
OR THE WIND
OR THE VOID
I AM NOTHING.
AND FROM NOTHING, YOU WERE BORN
AND INTO NOTHING, YOU SHALL RETURN.
It's hard to see if Vakama has even heard Void Archive's admonishments at first. He stays frozen, eyes still stuck on the maskless body lying broken and barely visible in the darkness.
"That was meant for me."
Murderer.
His breath catches.
"Keep objecting."]
No -- no, no, n-no, that wasn't me. [The rock starts to dissolve into itself, a dizzied run of spiraling tunnels] That wasn't me!
[You fail him more if you continue to refuse.
Your confines feel claustrophobic and foreign from all sides, smelling of earth and ocean, horrifically dark. And while the comments have been mocking, now they grow genuinely angry.
--who died and made you Mata Nui anyway--?
--you're not the only one trying--
--maybe if this wasn't coming from a leader who doesn't know when to quit--
--we can't keep going like this, Vakama!!--
Arrogance.
Recklessness.
Foolish, childish decisions.
(for a moment, just a moment, as though in Void Archive's own voice)
The poisonous fog that had laid out in that cityscape returns, thick and suffocating, before Void Archive drops - suddenly all alone - straight into the depths of an angry, stormy sea, the battered parts of a craft pushed too far sinking slowly into the rocking depths beyond them.
And where did that lead you?
Guilt disguised as bravery, your chest raised with eyes blinded.
Another jerking lunge, and they're now washed on the shore of a beach filled with nothing but rubble. A skyline that criss-crosses with thick webs. A stillness broken only by the deafening roars and cries of wildlife that had not been there before.
And Vakama stands, at the precipice of the nearest hill, looking down towards Void Archive with an expression of nauseated regret, even as his own voice echoes, unattached, off in the distance with an almost pompous arrogance, the voices mumbling constant and increasing disapprovals through the air.
As though you could drown it all out.
As though your bold words could change any of it.
"Are we going to stand around all night? Nothing changes! We go to the Coliseum, we rescue the Matoran, and we leave!
Follow me!"
...
Will you follow?]
no subject
But what throws them even more than the visions hurled towards Vakama made to sink in claws further is how this thing sounds like their voice. The knowledge burns that they are being used against Vakama like this. As if they themselves self-sabotaged their own efforts (though they don't dare drown in self-pity. Rather, a sense of irritability...and acknowledgement that they are needlessly projecting. These are Vakama's insecurities; he must face them accordingly.)
After the moment which delays their response accordingly, they ignore the call to rush into the unknown. Instead, they stalk towards Vakama with a purpose. How irritating. Must they be expected to follow each piece like some kind of puppet? ]
Why do you look at me like that? If you hold something akin to regret for involving me in this, how about we put an end to this right here, hm?
Nothing changes from simply standing around. Yet, how many times will you let yourself be tortured by your own mind?
If this script must continue, then remember I'm hardly here to be strung along right alongside you.
However, I won't let it end with you catatonic. I'll drag you through this myself to a reasonable conclusion instead of a pitiful end if I have to.
no subject
The words are spit out towards him without interruption, the Matoran's expression simply thinning, cold. Deep irritation that zips up tight as he glances back out towards the unknown, to the ghost that moves forward.]
I do not have the say in this that you think I do.
[It's more tired than confident.
How do you fight a vision? A ghost of the past?]
no subject
Isn't this where you're supposed to say something inspiring like one of those individuals from a story about rallying against the darkness of your mind?
Nonsense about persevering through such burdens?
As much as this dialogue is insisting you're a terrible waste of space, you were clearly working rather diligently. Yes, I'm hardly surprised you acted a fool at times, and I have no desire to ignore that. Yet, I also feel as if you should tell that voice rallying against you to shut up.
Only even louder. It's hardly equal if there's only criticism. Not to mention, it's putting me through this nonsense as well. To the point that even I'm unwilling to agree with it, even where there could be sound logic.
Besides, there is that damned nonsense about it being from the void...I did wish to comment on that as well. Do you know how ridiculous that sounded? After all, I am the Void Archives - I should know a thing or two about that, if not more than whatever it thinks it should be.
[ As they say this, they brush at their clothing, trying to get whatever sand clinging to them off or whatnot. Honestly, they're not one for powerful emotional declarations, but despite the fact that the two of them solidly don't get along, they don't feel restrained in holding back their words. Though that is how they usually are. ]
no subject
He simply looks off in the direction of his own ghost.]
Believe me. I have tried.
I don't like filling my companions with empty words. Not unless I believe that what I am saying is the truth. To say things to oneself is...
[Different. But there isn't an argument to be had here. Void Archive isn't speaking falsehoods, given that the normal annoyance on his face smooths out to simple trepidation.
Well. Until that line about the Void. Then he just rolls his eyes.]
Not my words, so take it up with the Makuta. I can't decide if you would get along with him, despise him, or if the two of you would just talk one another to death.
no subject
My condolences, truly. What a pity you had to deal with such a being! While I imagine I would have engaged him in talk, we would have come to a large split in differing perspectives, I imagine.
...I also can't say I'm surprised you would prefer to be honest.
But was I wrong? I'd say think on it, but then I'm uncertain if you'd just keep thinking on it forever.
Besides, I believe you know as well as I do that if you speak from the heart, even staring death in the face seems trivial and possible to overcome~
Still, I can talk all day, but it is you who has to have the wherewithal to pick up any such belief in yourself.
[ ...
But, well, Void Archives is passing him a smug little expression, for another reason entirely, though of course still connected. ]
I suppose I've bought enough time for now. Having a little breather isn't too bad, is it? ...So, shall we? Or perhaps you can think of another way forward?
1/3 :)
...]
It is not myself I'm worried about. [This onslaught is not new. These feelings are not new. It is their consequences.] And there is no other way.
A vision... does not care for choice.
[But if Void Archive has decided they're bored... then Vakama can't delay the inevitable any longer.]
2/3
You follow, right behind the lingering ghost of a figure with the bold voice of the Toa who does not listen; every step unsteady, on a path crumbling underfoot, as the fog grows denser amidst the buildings. A monument, a grave, more than a city.
Vakama tenses, a choking sound and a curling of his fists as though he's trying to say something. But it's robbed of him.
You follow.
You see energy crackle forward through the bare air to hit the ghost of your leader.
And only a moment later, your own body is hit, going completely rigid against your will.
Paralysis.
You crumple. All you hear is an absence. Too silent. Far, far too silent.
--everyone okay--
right behind you, fearless leader... literally--
bickering won't get us out of this--
noooo, but think-talking before charging straight into a TRAP might have--
Vakama--
---what do we do?]
/3 cw: body horror
You can't do anything.
Your eyes scan frantically. You see the bodies of so many of your fellow shardbearers.
Nothing.
You can't do anything.
The swarm quickly overtakes you.
It overtakes all of them.
Not even willing to face the consequences, even now.
Teeth bite, webbing pulls, tighter and tighter until every surface both metal and organic starts to give, starts to prick - barbs, hundreds upon thousands, sinking into every inch of you with the burning rush of venom.
Every pounding of your head riles you up. Panic, that grows, less like yourself, less sentient, less in control, and more like--
The change happens without warning. A ripple effect, in one limb, that rapidly moves down the body you cannot see in the tightened trapping of your cocoon. Metal and muscle suddenly twist. Crack. Bending out of shape to reform to another. Bulging, adding, changing. Armor merges with structure, masks sinking to join with faces, chest expanding as limbs outstretch and your mind twists ferally within your skull.
Your mouth opens to scream. A strangled roar rips from your throat instead.
Your cocoon rips to open air. You free fall, from the highest point of the city.
You hit the ground, somehow not dying from the impact. Your body moves awkwardly. Primal. Unbalanced. Instinct over your mind. The tunnel vision can't be ignored.
But Vakama is there. Still a Matoran, with his hands held in front of you placatingly, as though trying to prevent you from running.
He exhales as his eyes travel Void Archive, tense. Apologetic. You feel the growl in your throat against your will.]
...This. This is what I...
[What he was worried about. What he didn't want to repeat. But his eyes grow cold, resentful, tracing down for a second to try and compose himself before turning back to... what used to be Void Archive.]
Can you still hear me?
[Are you still you?]
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But then there's something else more pressing.
A change that takes over them so thoroughly and horribly...
Void Archives can't do much about it - though they aren't exactly the type of person to vocalize such loud noises, there is a flurry of everything all at once. A loss of control so integral to their being that they suddenly can't process anything - or rather, they are understanding and concluding far too much at once.
Then, when they come to their senses, they're changed...(but a bit more 'furrier', so please imagine a spiked tail of some sort.) ]
I hear you.
[ The voice is devoid of all the playfulness that usually accompanies it, the sound almost incomprehensible, as if speaking another language - but, Vakama can understand it. The words fall together in a snap, less controlled; with far less finesse. ]
Another trick, I presume. Yet, I see that look in your eyes...do you believe that I would succumb to it?
[ Void Archives talks without a single tremble in their tone; they seem to be keeping their cool. Though, they know they don't look like how they normally do; they don't even want to look at themselves. Their emotions are rising to a sudden fever pitch because this is treading - has crossed - into a violation of their own self. Yet, this isn't real...but, a part of that tunnel vision is them focusing on that misfortune. ]
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Vakama doesn't flinch at the question, a flicker of slight relief that Void Archive even responds at all. There's no concern at the change of pitch, the change of attitude, still them but slightly askew.
He knows this well, after all. What the venom changed. How... different it made it, to feel, to process.]
...Even the most logical of minds can. Yours is not an exception.
I'm sorry... out of anything, this is... this is not what I ever wanted to see repeated.
But it's going to be all right.
[--how are we supposed to--
--you call THIS all right???--
The sounds of others crawling to unsteady feet seems to echo. In pain. Confused. Horrified.
Furious.
Moving away, further and further.
Not from Void Archive, for Void Archive will find that foreign hands twist against their foreign, twisted frame, urging them backwards. Stay with the group. Stay together.
It is Vakama that is left to stand alone.
As the Matoran realizes what's starting to happen, his expression grows firm, reaching a hand out to try and break the distance, attempting to grab for Void Archive's arm.]
No. No, not again. We are not doing this again, I won't--
[The hold reaches. But something gets to Vakama first.
You know that isn't how this works.
The pain flashes. A twist of the space, the light, and a disformed figure drops down from the webs with frightening speed, snapping gnarled fingers onto the Matoran's skull, hoisting him up off the ground as he yelps.
Familiar enough, and yet not - twisted painfully, stalking like some great cat against the ground.
With incredible violence, the Matoran is tossed aside past rock and web, rolling to an unresponsive stop against the ground. And the voice that rolls out falls heavy on unnatural breath and predatory rumbling under every syllable, slipping right back into cover.]
You think yourself above it?
[It's almost incredulous. So incredibly bitter. Animosity building, amplified.] Towering, mocking, like all that matters to those mortal beings underneath you is nothing but a plaything.
Perhaps this will come to suit you. It is the kind of "hero" we are, after all. You and I.
The ones who will always find ourselves separate. The ones who destroy all we touch.
[--who have you been TALKING to, Vakama, who's put these thoughts into your head--
A breath rolls out, a rolling growl. Ignoring the voices. Uncaring.]
Or would you call that all a trick as well? The way you speak. Your refusal to care.
What clarity do you even think you find, when all you provide is pointless noise?
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They stare at Vakama blankly as he says that. Is...he trying to comfort them? Ah, well, they hadn't expected that.
Maybe he has a point. They're not feeling all that well for obvious reasons, but they refuse to be deadweight. They don't feel as strong as they thought they were (were they ever? They could never overpower Otto, could not stop their creator from shutting them down or sealing them. They may have an intelligent mind, may be stubborn, but their will is nowhere near as powerful as Welt Yang's.
Still...)
For a moment, they huff. Forcing themselves to clash against the foothold that has been deeply entranced in their mind, Void Archives tries to quickly start speaking faster than the intrusive thoughts can disrupt their programming: ]
Please. I don't need such assurances. Hmph, do you want to know why I said all of those things before? I'll tell you...despite everything, I did actually personally believe that you co—
[ This is where they're about to say something else within that. Who knows, only God does especially since suddenly everything begins to fall flat. It seems that the universe is completely against any semblance of good - or rather...the nightmare. Is that much of a surprise, in a place that twists one's fears, their emotions, their entire beings?
They step back. ]
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But, it doesn't matter now. Especially when it - Vakama? - starts to speak these words unbidden, harsher than anything than before.
Void Archives gives pause.
Then, they just start to laugh hard and long in 'Vakama's face. The distortion increases the volume and harshness by it by far instead of the light sound of their usual vocalized amusement.
...Finally, after a bit of time, they stop. ]
Really? Is that all that you have?
[ Of course we couldn't understand each other, comes the bitter thought. They had thought it possible in that training courtyard because their being had been poisoned by the idea of trying to consider the idea. Whenever they tried to open up, every time without fail they found themselves realizing that they were better off keeping that distance from others. Where had they gotten the idea that anyone would wish to truly reach that level of knowing?
To even potentially bridge the scorched earth that they themselves had made in lack of their initial desire to reach out to others. This feeling...that idea of wanting to never be alone again...
They will discard it. And destroy everything in the way. ]
Ah, well. I will grant you one thing...
Yes, I am the type of individual to destroy everything I touch. [ The image of the Sky People's invasion to the world come to mind. ] Though, I see no reason to change that.
I suppose you must be desperate, aren't you? To think that you can hurl such words at me and have them mean anything.
[ Then, they say something encouraged by that normally absent animal instinct to hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, and rip it all apart: ]
You are as foolish as this place has deemed you. A failure trying to lecture someone who is your better.
You...are truly pathetic.
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The mangled form of Vakama crashes down from above with all sense lost for any sort of surprise (1)(3), a FURIOUS roar ripping out as he dives at Void Archive. To pin, to choke, to kill - unclear, unplanned, an attack out of rage and nothing else.
Very well. Then let him be the monster, if he cannot be anything else.]
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