Chapter Text
> Sandalphon: Answer Olivia.
— dusklightExile [DE] began pestering icarusCradle [IC] at 22:03 —
DE: Where are you right now?
IC: uhhh im on LOFAE with zooey
IC: frog breeding
IC: can never catch these damn things, theyre so slippery
IC: why, did something happen
DE: I’m not sure.
DE: But I have an awful feeling.
DE: A very bad premonition of sorts.
DE: You should get in contact with Lucifer immediately and locate him as soon as you can.
IC: fuck
IC: is he in trouble
DE: I feel like he may be.
DE: Before you doubt me, though, remember that I’m quite literally the Seer of Doom and you should probably take me seriously when I say something very horrible might be happening.
IC: fuck fuck fuck okay youre right
IC: i cant let anything happen to him again
IC: if hes dead when i find him ill kill you though
DE: Suuure you will.
IC: bye
— icarusCradle [IC] ceased pestering dusklightExile [DE] at 22:07 —
> Sandalphon: Message Lucifer.
You guess you have to, this time around.
— icarusCradle [IC] began pestering canaanIlluminated [CI] at 22:08 —
IC: lucifer?
IC: where are you, olivia said you might be in trouble
CI: I was just looking for you.
CI: I entered the third gate and arrived on your planet. I hoped to see you, but you weren’t there.
IC: i was on zooeys planet breeding frogs
IC: sorry i missed you
IC: are you safe
CI: I think so. I don’t see what could be happening to me that would give her such an impression.
CI: Though there is something strange happening here... Some sort of trumpeting noise.
CI: It’s very... loud... and the ground is shaking.
CI: Is this supposed to happen on your land?
IC: shit i have no idea
IC: i know my denizen has been raising hell and breaking glass in the clock towers but im not sure if it gets actually dangerous
IC: im on my way
IC: lucifer?
IC: lucifer
IC: can you reply to tell me youre okay
— canaanIlluminated [CI] is now an idle chum! —
IC: oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god
— icarusCradle [IC] ceased pestering canaanIlluminated [CI] at 22:14 —
> Sandalphon: Take the RETURN NODE back to LOCAC.
There’s still time.
There’s still enough time to save him.
Zooey notices you turning to leave, and tries to flag you down. She must be worried about you, as is usually the case with her when you do anything erratic. Stupid helpful meddling MOIRAIL. You love her but you don’t have time for this right now.
==>
ZOOEY: sanchan?
ZOOEY: sanchan where are you going?
ZOOEY: are you okay?
ZOOEY: can i help you in any way?
SANDALPHON: i have to go i have to go
SANDALPHON: sorry ill message you when i can
ZOOEY: ????
> Sandalphon: Do an acrobatic fucking pirouette into the RETURN NODE.
No time for that.
You do manage to pull off a pretty sick PRIMARCH DIVE though.
> Sandalphon: Arrive on LOCAC.
You land on a carpet of what looks like broken GLASS.
Immediately you know just how wrong everything has gone in your absence. All the CANDLES have sputtered out, so the place is almost pitch-dark. There are no bird sounds, no beats of wings or annoying little chirps— the silence is overwhelming. You create a small orb of light in your hand and use it to view your immediate surroundings.
> The clock towers.
Oh god. They’re empty. All the GLASS PANES have been blown out of the shells of them. They look like terrible brass skeletons. You can see the gears inside the CLOCKS themselves, but they look so lifeless without all the stained glass.
You feel sick.
> The candles.
You step on a VOTIVE LIGHT. You reach down to pick it up, careful to avoid the shards of glass. The wax is still somewhat watery, and warm. This had just happened.
> Lucifer?
You don’t know where he is.
You use your COMMUNICATION TABLET to pester Lucifer, hoping it’ll light up somewhere around here.
IC: where are you
IC: oh i heard something
IC: is that a light
> Sandalphon: Move towards it.
IC: lucifer im so sorry
IC: im so sorry
IC: theres no way its too late though, it cant be
IC: oh
IC: oh no
==>
It smells like blood.
You hate the fact that this is helping you find him more easily than anything. But it makes you want to vomit. It’s not that you’re bad with blood, per se. Last time there was no blood at all, save for your own. It made the moment seem much more surreal, the lack of it. But this is real— too real. So real you can smell it.
You can still save him.
==>
You kneel down at his side, careful not to cut your knees or feet on the glass. The light orb hovers above his body for a split second.
> No.
> NO
You reel backwards. You can’t look at him. It was just enough light for you to see, and what you saw in that moment was— porcelain skin slashed open on every inch of it, there’s so much blood, you don’t know what you’re doing, you feel sick and lightheaded and heavy, what happened to his face?
Death by a thousand cuts.
Your hands are stained again.
> Sandalphon: Revive him.
You feel for his hair, at least, in the dark. It clumps together with blood.
Why, why does your first kiss with him have to be like this. All this time, all these feelings, and this is the way you manage to show him? When he’s not even alive to see or feel it? Covered in dirt and blood and glass and melted wax. You steel yourself and imagine— kindness. Soft lips, the taste of coffee and sweetness. Reciprocation.
You kiss him.
Nothing of the sort.
==>
You wipe the blood off your lips and grimace.
You wait.
> And wait.
> How long does it take for a dream self to revive?
> Slow realization sinks in.
He isn’t moving. He isn’t breathing. His wounds aren’t healing. He’s not waking up. He’s not waking up.
No. No.
> Please.
> Please don’t leave me again.
Not like this.
> Sandalphon: Try again.
He cannot be revived. His DREAM SELF has been slain.
> Sandalphon: Get up.
...
> Sandalphon: Do something.
...
> Sandalphon: Don’t just sit there.
We cannot command him anymore, dear READER. He is beyond our reach right now.
Perhaps we should be someone else.
> Be Zooey.
Your name is ZOOEY.
You are alone on your quest planet, the LAND OF FROGS AND ECHOES. Your MOIRAIL was just here; you were attempting to breed frogs together, as is the responsibility of each TIME and SPACE player in every SBOUND session. But he abruptly left, seeming panicked, and you were unable to stop him before he did a PRIMARCH DIVE headfirst into the nearby RETURN NODE.
It has been nearly an hour since you last heard from him.
You are worried about him.
> Zooey: Pester Sandalphon.
— grandeStarseed [GS] began pestering icarusCradle [IC] at 22:56 —
— icarusCradle [IC] is now an idle chum! — br> GS: sanchan where are you?
GS: i’m really worried. with you taking off like that, it couldn’t have been good.
GS: can you let me know what’s going on when you get the chance?
GS: i really hope you’re safe.
GS: <>
— icarusCradle [IC] is no longer idle! —
GS: there you are!
GS: what happened?
IC: hes d ead
GS: who???
GS: no.
GS: oh no.
IC: hes dead and i couldnt do anything. i couldnt
IC: i was too late
IC: again
IC: its my fault again it was alqays my fault,
GS: where are you right now?
IC: locac
IC: i ffound his body
IC: trie dto revive him
IC: didnt work
IC: fuck
IC: i have t o just
IC: go
GS: don’t you dare go anywhere.
IC: cant be here any longer
IC: not with his
IC: oh fuck uoh fuck ih fuck
— icarusCradle [IC] ceased pestering grandeStarseed [GS] at 23:00 —
> Zooey: Sit down.
You bury your face in your hands and try to breathe. It’s not working as well as it usually does.
Lucifer is dead. And now Sandalphon’s on his planet, all alone, save for Lucifer’s body. You know him well enough to know he’s not safe from himself.
You notice your hands are shaking.
> Zooey: Try not to panic.
Step one, failed.
You’re panicking.
> Zooey: Call PEACEMAKERSPRITE for advice.
You use your SPRITE PENDANT to summon PEACEMAKERSPRITE. It is very worried about you. It attempts to nuzzle you, but it phases through you.
==>
GS: peacemakersprite…
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: I AM HERE FOR YOU.
GS: can you help me?
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: TO THE BEST OF MY ABILITY.
GS: i need to know something. please do not be vague with me.
GS: can i still ascend if my dream self is dead?
PEACEMAKERSPRITE:
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: YOU INTEND TO ASCEND TO GOD TIER?
GS: it’s all i can do now.
GS: lucifer is dead and sanchan’s not safe and who knows what olivia’s going through.
GS: i have to be stronger. i have to do everything i can for them now.
GS: please.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: I UNDERSTAND.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: FORTUNATELY THERE IS A WAY.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: USUALLY IN ORDER TO ASCEND TO GOD TIER, YOU MUST DIE ON YOUR QUEST BED, WHICH IS IN YOUR LAND.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: DURING ASCENSION, YOUR DREAM SELF IS USED TO REVIVE YOUR REAL BODY, AND THEN THE TWO COMBINE.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: IN THE ABSENCE OF A DREAM SELF, THERE IS A BACKUP METHOD.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: AT THE CORE OF EACH KINGDOM, YOU MAY FIND WHAT IS CALLED A SACRIFICIAL SLAB. IF YOU DIE ON THIS PLATFORM, IT WILL ALLOW YOU TO ASCEND EVEN WITHOUT A LIVING DREAM SELF.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: TO ACCESS THE CORE OF PROSPIT, YOU MAY USE THE TRANSPORTALIZER IN THE FROG TEMPLE ON YOUR PLANET.
GS: and that will take me right there?
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: YES.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: THOUGH IT IS UP TO YOU TO CAUSE YOUR OWN ASCENSION.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: MANY HAVE FOUND IT HARDER THAN IT SEEMS, TO CAUSE THEIR OWN DEATH EVEN WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT YOU WILL BE REVIVED.
GS: it’s just another vessel. i’ll be fine.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: YOU ARE AFRAID.
GS: i’m not. i can’t be.
GS: we don’t feel fear.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE: YOU DO, CHILD.
> Zooey: Return PEACEMAKERSPRITE to SPRITE PENDANT.
That’s that, then.
You know what you have to do.
==>
Elsewhere, a few minutes in the past, but not many…
> Be Sandalphon.
You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here.
Your vision feels unfocused, blurry. You don’t feel like you’re in your own body. Breathing in feels wrong. Your mouth tastes like nothing but the remains of a fire.
Time doesn’t really matter anymore. This game doesn’t really matter anymore. What’s the point of creating a new universe if he’s not in it. What’s the point of starting over if you killed him.
Because you did.
You killed him.
You pull your knees further up into your chest and curl into yourself a little more. If you become small enough maybe you could float away, freeze to death in the high air, lose yourself to the atmosphere. But a death like that doesn’t suit you, maybe. Maybe you deserve it, but you’d rather not go out like that if you can help it.
No. If you have to die, it will be in a blaze. It will be with the sun in your eyes.
==>
There is anger in you.
The LAND OF CLOCKTOWERS AND CANDLES is beginning to light back up. The CONSORTS are emerging from their hideaways to bring matches out and relight all the CANDLES. Their wings flash in the darkness, but they are nothing but sparks. Slowly, the ground is illuminated again, and the stars above you fade back into the darkness with the new light.
You look at his body. Then you look away.
You can barely glance at him. God, there’s just so much blood. Shards of glass painted red strewn about his body framing him like a mosaic. You know exactly what is responsible.
> Sandalphon: Resist urge to seek revenge.
You make a halfhearted attempt to resist the urge.
It doesn’t quite work. But you never expected it to, anyway.
What was it your SPRITE said about the GATES? That the seventh gate leads to your DENIZEN? Ugh, you could never stop arguing with him long enough to get any actual advice from him.
You’ve really only built up to the third GATE. The further up you build, the more you’ll be able to reach. But you have wings. You don’t need to build, you don’t need to grind, you don’t need any of that.
You don’t care anymore. You’re about to smash this game wide open, tear out its innards like some crazed animal. There’s no point in waiting, in biding your time until you’re strong enough. You’re going in there to fight the damn thing that killed Lucifer.
==>
And you don’t intend to win.
==>
> Elsewhere…
An arbitrator prepares for her last rites.
> Zooey: Leave.
You enter the FROG TEMPLE and step onto the TRANSPORTALIZER.
The core of PROSPIT is dark, and you drift down towards it, the way you always drifted in your dreams. Below you, there is a black slab of stone, just large enough to fit a person. The emblem of the aspect of SPACE is detailed into the stone. The bright white is all you can see, from here.
> Zooey: Descend.
You reach your SACRIFICIAL SLAB. The stone is cold under your fingers. It feels like a last resort, like a bed too far away from home. Uncomfortable and unwelcome, in comparison.
You’ve never died before.
You wonder what it’s like. You’ve been defeated in battle, yes, and light has leaked from the cracks in your body and armor and you have reformed from it, but you are never not aware. You don’t think you’d mind finding out, just once, what it’s like to not exist.
> Zooey: Kneel.
You drop to your knees. It’s so cold. Too cold. This isn’t how you imagined it going.
> Now, how to do this.
PEACEMAKERSPRITE said it was easier said than done. It told you that you were, in fact, afraid. But you’re not afraid, really. Maybe nervous. Maybe it’s in your nature to be nervous about anything that goes against self-preservation, against homeostasis, against stability.
You equip your COSMIC SWORD from your bladekind STRIFE SPECIBUS. It falls into your hands, lighter than any feather, sharp and solid. Dependable.
You have destroyed many threats with this same blade. You have protected the world with its shining edges. Now, it is time to defend it again. Some things must die for new things to be born. It is the nature of the universe, the nature of your being.
You wrap your hands around the hilt, reach forward, and position the point of the blade right under the join of your ribcage.
> Zooey: Close your eyes.
You wonder how many times Sandalphon has imagined himself doing this.
You know he has tried.
You’re so worried about him. You’re worried about everyone.
> The ground must be razed for new flowers to bloom.
> Let it be so.
You test it first, pushing it against your skin just a little, until the tip of the blade is sharp against the softness of your flesh, enough to imprint but not to cut— and then, without further hesitation, you throw your weight forward against where you hold it, and feel it pierce and then impale you entirely.
The pain rips through you first, so hot and so much that you can barely cry out. Your hands tremble; it’s such an intense kind of agony that you falter, unable to put any strength or effort into the rest of the push, and it’s only halfway through you. Choking on blood and a suppressed, strangled shout, you squeeze your eyes shut, hard, until the blackness behind your eyelids becomes red. You drop forward towards the slab, unable to hold yourself up; mercifully, this pushes the hilt in the rest of the way, and you feel the moment the point of the sword erupts from your back. You nearly scream, but all that comes out is a hollow, whistling cough.
Your forehead hits the stone; it’s pleasantly cool, while the rest of your body burns with agony. This is just a vessel, you tell yourself. Just another vessel, and it can be broken, and it is broken to release something greater. But you can’t keep the thought in your head for long— you feel your consciousness recede against the tide of pain, how every nerve ending lights up with tortured, thoughtless fire and leaves no room for words or higher mental processes, nothing left but the visceral pleading for it to end, end, end.
You almost forgot what pain is like. Even then, you couldn’t feel it to this extent. Pain was unnecessary for a concept, a thing that could not die, would only reform into new light. Pain is for flesh, to warn its wielder of danger, of peril. You did not need that, back then. Now, it overtakes you in a way you never thought possible.
You can’t pull the sword out. All you can do now is wait. It won’t be long now.
==>
Time passes like a river trying to wear its way through stone. What comes next is a glimpse of darkness, deeper than the kind you see with closed eyes. It feels like an eternity, to a physical form, but you know better. Your body disassembles itself. Faintly, as if from a distance, you hear the clatter of a sword as it falls.
> Rise up, Heir.
You open your eyes.
Oh.
You’re floating. It’s been a while since you’ve been able to do this, really and truly. You feel free, almost complete in a way. PROSPIT’s core disappears below you, slowly. You look at your hands— no blood, no sign of shaking, no cumbersome heavy flesh. You feel a little lighter, a little less weighted to mortality, and it’s closer to what you remember.
You glance down at the rest of your body. The getup is kind of cute. The emblem of the SPACE ASPECT is emblazoned across the front of your short-sleeved hoodie. Your pants are baggy and comfortable.
Around your neck is what looks like some sort of hood. It’s a bit ridiculous. It extends further below you than even your hair. It looks like a windsock.
You try to shrug it on, but your hair is too powerful. You leave it trailing behind you.
You can’t dawdle now. You are the HEIR OF SPACE. You have a MOIRAIL to return to, a FRIEND to avenge, and a WORLD to protect.
> Zooey: Return to LOCAC and check on Sandalphon.
You hope you were fast enough. You’re afraid he went and did something rash while you were away. You know him too well to think he’d ever stay still, after something like that.
You’re not quite sure how to control your powers yet, but if you just… hm… think about where you want to go. Imagine that place. Imagine yourself melting into space.
It’s easy enough to imagine, since it’s more like remembering. You remember being GRAND ORDER, being everywhere and everything at once, and though it’s harder now to conceptualize because you’ve gained a sense of singular perception, you can still remember the feeling. Before you realize what’s happening, you’re already gone.
==>
It’s really not that different from how it used to be. You’re floating, in a lack of sensation or thought. But you can still see, in a way, though it’s more like everything is in your peripheral vision. There’s no way to focus particularly on anything— everything is just vague, and there, and recognizable, but not very specific.
Was it really like this? Or have you just changed that much?
You choose your target. Just by thinking about it, you can feel the heat from here.
> Zooey: Do the SPACEY THING.
You’re there.
LOCAC is… a mess. There’s shattered glass everywhere, and though it’s dimly lit, it looks like almost all of the CANDLES that kept it alight for so long have been extinguished before. There are a few CONSORTS flapping around and lighting them again. They are weird BIRDS, all orange and yellow, that give off sparks when they flutter their wings. You decide to gather some INFORMATION.
> Zooey: Question the LOCAL FLAMEWING.
ZOOEY: hello!
ZOOEY: i’m zooey.
FLAMEWING: SQUAWK SQUAWK SQUAWK.
ZOOEY: ugh… i should have known this wouldn’t be that easy.
FLAMEWING: No it’s okay, we can talk.
FLAMEWING: We just like to mess with visitors.
ZOOEY:
> Zooey: Attempt to throw your HOOD on the floor in frustration.
It doesn’t work, since it’s attached to your GOD TIER HOODIE. You nearly tear it off, though.
The FLAMEWING seems very startled by your sudden outburst.
==>
ZOOEY: AUGH!
ZOOEY: that’s quite mean of you, you know! i’m in a hurry to save my best friend!
ZOOEY: i am a calm person usually but i cannot help but be angry because of this situation!
ZOOEY: so i am going to ask you! and you WILL answer me.
ZOOEY: have you seen the hero of this land?
==>
FLAMEWING: Yes! Yes I did see him!
FLAMEWING: He went to the SEVENTH GATE to fight his DENIZEN!
FLAMEWING: We told him not to but he was so angry he did it anyway.
FLAMEWING: I am not sure where he is now! I’m very sorry!
ZOOEY: …
ZOOEY: that.
ZOOEY: complete.
ZOOEY: IDIOT!
> Zooey: Storm off to find your stupid MOIRAIL.
You can’t BELIEVE this.
Of course he would do something completely ridiculous and self-destructive like that. Of COURSE.
You haven’t felt this angry in a long time. But it’s not even at him, really. You’re angry at the world, and at this game, and at whatever killed Lucifer and drove Sandalphon to this. Fighting your DENIZEN at this point is pretty much suicide.
You just hope you can get there in time. Maybe he’s still fighting the damn thing. Maybe it had mercy on him and didn’t kill him because it knew he was being a stupid baby who poops hard in his diaper and didn’t want to end his story before he could even grow.
…You hope.
> Zooey: Search.
You let yourself fade yet again. Maybe if you’re space for a little while you’ll be able to locate him, wherever he is.
It’s all periphery and blurs, since you’re not quite used to this yet. But you see something— something that’s too red, even for here. You track it down and become next to it.
==>
He’s dead.
Oh god, he’s dead.
You’re the worst MOIRAIL ever. It’s you.
==>
He’s burned all over. Charred in some places, blistered in others, his entire body an open wound. He’s not moving.
You bite your lip until it bleeds. He’s still warm, but you don’t know if it’s because his death occurred so recently or if it’s from the fire. He doesn’t look quite pale yet— at least, the parts of him that still have intact skin don’t.
You shouldn’t have left him alone. You should have gotten him out of there before you went off to PROSPIT, or brought him to Olivia and made sure she kept him in line, or something. How could you do this to him? How could you let him do this to himself?
> Zooey: Revive him.
You’re about to administer the universal remedy for the unawakened, when you remember— there’s a better option. He still has his DREAM SELF, if you recall correctly, and his QUEST BED is relatively close by.
You kneel and gather his broken body into your arms. A CONSORT watches you sadly from afar.
==>
ZOOEY: i’m taking you to your quest bed. and if you even think about scolding me later for reviving you and letting you ascend i will personally teleport you into the path of an oncoming meteor!
ZOOEY: ...ugh. no, this is so horrible. your skin...
ZOOEY: it’s peeling off...
ZOOEY: just what did you /do/?
==>
Your MOIRAIL’s body is heavy in your arms. There is ash smeared across his face; his skin is loose and charred on his cheekbone. His arms, his back— all razed by fire. His clothes from the waist up are mostly tatters. The warmth is fading from his body, even the lingering heat from the fire, and it’s making your hands shake.
> Zooey: Ascend.
The LAND OF CLOCKTOWERS AND CANDLES is lit with a strange orange glow. You can see the BIRDS scatter from inside the derelict bell towers, all red and yellow and flame-winged, little flashes of light.
Of course he died by burning. You never imagined his death any other way.
The QUEST BED is located on a high plateau, higher than the CLOCKTOWERS themselves, a singular pillar of rock jutting out from the rest of the land. It has a circular staircase carved into it, lit by CANDLES that you can see from here, but you can fly now, so you don’t have to go up that way.
Your feet touch down onto the land. The QUEST BED is as red as his eyes, as the flesh beneath his skin. You keep looking at his face, even though you’re trying not to.
> Zooey: Lay him down.
You brush back his hair from his forehead, and set his body down gently. He’s bleeding from his hairline. There’s blood and soot all over you, now.
You kiss his forehead. When you move away, you taste ash and iron on your lips. You think his eyelids may have fluttered, but it’s probably just your imagination.
He’s not going to hear you now, so you send him a few messages to come back to when he wakes up.
— grandeStarseed [GS] began pestering icarusCradle [IC] at 15:28 —
GS: i’ll see you when you ascend.
GS: and then i am going to scold the stupid right out of you, so prepare yourself.
GS: ...pale for you, idiot.
GS: <>
==>
You leave. You don’t want him to see you crying.
His PLANET disappears below you, in all its yellow-orange light. You look back, once, and see millions of little sparks surrounding his QUEST BED, motes of light whose shapes you can’t quite make out, covering his body until none of the blood or skin or tattered clothing is visible anymore, just orange glow left behind where all the destruction lay.
Something in your heart settles. He is safe. You don’t look back again.
> Knight. Rise up.
At first it feels like little sparks of flame, prickling the hairs on your arms; crisp moments of sharp, living heat. You went what felt like so long without sensation; everything is so outlined and clean and clear, like you’ve never experienced it before. The heat becomes a blanket, thousands of little stars pouring down onto you, and then you are warm and enveloped and complete again.
The body comes back to you. So much that you can feel the floating, the detachment of it from the ground. Your separation from gravity, from inertia, from mortality. A whole universe reassembles itself in bits and pieces. You open your eyes before you are entirely awake, and see the sunset glow of your PLANET below you, millions of birds scattering from around the QUEST BED you are quickly leaving behind. They take off like a flock of swallows, a flame in midair, and then dissipate.
Molten time drips from your fingers. It is the color of the sun.
You wake up.
> Sandalphon: Survey your surroundings.
You were just floating, but now you are… lying down? It doesn’t make much sense, but you do remember you were barely even awake. You appear to be on your QUEST BED, on the BATTLEFIELD in SKAIA. Far away, you can hear the noise of battle, but it hasn’t reached you yet. This area seems to be empty.
> Sandalphon: Check out your sweet new threads.
Hey, this is… kind of cool, actually.
Your new GOD TIER outfit is in multiple shades of deep, rich red. Your shirt bears the emblem of the ASPECT OF TIME, a large solid GEAR. The layers are kind of lame, though, but you’re used to layers. And the pants are so comfortable. You could probably use these as pajamas. Also, you have a CAPE. That’s pretty sweet.
Your HALOTOP lights up. Apparently you have a new message or two. Or four. You check PESTERCHUM.
==>
You read through them, and start blinking rapidly.
Where did these fucking tears come from?
> Sandalphon: Answer.
IC: zooey?
IC: zooey...
IC: fuck.
IC: thank you. i dont know what i would have done if you werent there.
IC: im on the battlefield right now. no clue where you are now, but im prepared for your scolding.
IC: damn you, zooey. always disappearing on me before i can properly thank you.
IC:
IC: <>
— icarusCradle [IC] ceased pestering grandeStarseed [GS] at 15:30 —
==>
Regret sinks into you heavy as stone. You must have worried her so much.
Admittedly you didn’t think of her when you were launching yourself headlong into certain death. You hate yourself for this. But you know that if you did think of her, you would have stopped, and with it stopped whatever led up to this, this new power, this potential.
This possibility of salvation.
> Sandalphon: Experiment.
You breathe deep, close your eyes, concentrate. There has to be some moment you can change, some possibility unexplored. But you remember what Olivia said about creating TIME PARADOXES. You don’t want to mess everything up already.
Maybe it’s best if you just go back and… observe. Don’t interfere. Just picture a time, a moment, a place.
Zooey’s PLANET. Hunting for frogs. Next to one of the smaller ponds. The water was so clear it felt like a crystal itself. How the depth of it was illuminated by spires of blue luminescent quartz, glowing and lighting up the water, how you could see the shadows of the frogs swimming in them, breaking the glassy surface. How you could never see the bottom, like the smallest pond bore directly into the core of the PLANET, like if you held your breath long enough you could dive in and come out the other side. She laughed when you caught the frog with a specifically clumsy flail of your net. It sounded like a windchime. The frog itself was blue and had a surface like it was inorganic, made of crystal itself, but you could feel it breathing, its little heart jumping under your fingers—
==>
GS: see! you got it! i told you it wasn’t that hard.
GS: though you looked like you were about to fall in, hee hee.
GS: i’ll let you know if i get its imprint or if it just ends up appearifying here.
GS: ...wait.
GS: sanchan?
GS: why are there… two of you?
> Sandalphon: GET OUT OF THERE.
You panic and find yourself rubber-banding back to SKAIA. The recoil from traveling so fast and stopping so abruptly brings a certain dizziness to your head. You lean down and brace yourself against the stone, panting.
You really just meant to show up around there, maybe in the air, somewhere out of reach, but instead you got too caught up on the sensory memory of the frog and the pool and the crystals that you traveled right to the moment you caught it. And Zooey was watching.
You really hope you didn’t fuck it up too much. If anything, it was a momentary confusion. Hopefully she forgets.
> Speaking of time shenanigans…
You have a question to ask.
You’ve been keeping track of the amount of self-hate and self-development you’ve experienced over the course of your SBOUND session by using this… old memo on the public message board that Zooey made for you and all your past and future selves to emotionally duke it out. The sanchan versus sanchan fight scene montage board. It has also served as a timeline organizer, and a place to ask questions about the progression of the game. Your other selves, for all their constant antagonism, are actually kind of helpful when it comes to figuring out what you’re supposed to do.
Except for that one spiteful future self that forced you to self-prototype. Fuck that guy.
> Sandalphon: Open memo.
You open the memo. You expect to walk in on a garbage fire like you usually do, where there are three or more of you beating up on each other until someone asks some sort of important question, but instead you are greeted by a strangely encouraging bunch of messages from a future self that seems to actually have it all together.
==>
FIC3: yeah your session is doomed and so is your whole universe
FIC3: but it doesnt have to be
FIC3: theres a way out you just dont know it yet, and itll be a way you wont see coming
FIC3: just… trust in zooey, and trust in your own decisions, and clean up your own dead bodies as you go.
FIC3: and dont self-prototype, fuck
FIC3: it should be obvious, i cant believe i have to say that, but please just fucking dont self-prototype. its horrible and the worst idea.
FIC3: i have to go
FIC3: were passing through another dreambubble and theres friends i have to meet
CURRENT icarusCradle [CIC] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.
CIC: wait tell me one thing
FIC3: oh my god
CIC: is lucifer alive in your timeline
FIC3:
FIC3: yes.
FIC3: in no small part thanks to your future efforts.
FIC3: just do the right thing
FIC3 ceased responding to memo.
CIC: you know what
CIC: he was right
CIC: there is something i can do
CIC ceased responding to memo.
(later)
> Sandalphon: Get confronted.
Zooey stands in front of you. Her hands are on her hips. Her eyes are glowing harsh and deep and terrifying. Her hair is actually floating behind her. Five foot one of condensed peacemaker has never looked so intimidating.
Well.
It’s time to face the music, you guess.
> Sandalphon: Prepare for the well-deserved reprisal of a lifetime.
You can’t look at her directly. Everything about her right now is too intense, and you don’t want to face it, because facing it means you’re acknowledging the fact that you hurt her, and you don’t want to think about that.
But you can still feel her eyes on you, burning holes in your skin. You bite your lip.
You wait for her to speak.
==>
You don’t notice that she’s launched herself towards you until you feel the impact.
She’s thrown herself into you. Her body is small and light, but her arms wrap around you so solidly, so much more substantial than you ever remember her being. She pushes her face into your shoulder, hard, and her fingers curl into your cape, and you can feel her pulling at it in anguish.
You don’t know what to do.
==>
ZOOEY: sandalphon.
ZOOEY: you absolute dimwit.
ZOOEY: why would you do that.
ZOOEY: going off and throwing your life away like that.
ZOOEY: you scared me so much.
ZOOEY: i thought you were dead, i thought it was my fault, i thought...
ZOOEY: you’re so stupid.
ZOOEY: god you’re so, so stupid.
ZOOEY: you don’t even know
ZOOEY: you never even REALIZED
ZOOEY: how much i need you here.
==>
You’re hit by the realization that she really does feel so much more than you ever knew. That she always has.
You hate that you’ve always seen her as unshakable, unwavering, undaunted. You know now, you’ve become aware— you’ve put her on a pedestal, one just as high as Lucifer’s. But she’s in your arms and she’s sobbing and her words sound less like scolding and more like pleading. She wasn’t angry. She was terrified.
==>
SANDALPHON: but
SANDALPHON: i always thought i was the worst moirail
SANDALPHON: like i wasnt holding up my end of the relationship
SANDALPHON: you were always keeping me stable and safe, always making sure i didnt do stupid self destructive bullshit, you always took care of me
SANDALPHON: i didnt feel like i ever did anything good for you
ZOOEY: that’s not true.
ZOOEY: you probably don’t see it, because you only ever see me when i’m stable and calm and level-headed. because i’m most like that when you’re there.
ZOOEY: the moment i heard you went to fight your denizen, i snapped.
ZOOEY: i was angry. i hadn’t been angry in a long time. i was panicking, and volatile, and terrified.
ZOOEY: you have no idea how much you ground me.
ZOOEY: remember, you’re one of the only reasons i am— zooey is— still here. if it wasn’t for you, i would have let go of this world and gone back to grand order entirely.
ZOOEY: you’re the reason i still exist.
ZOOEY: don’t ever forget that.