eyemind | event } you can jive

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event } you can jive

WHO: Open to all passengers!
WHAT: A visit to New Ecrillion, and all the music your ears can handle. Plus, bonus new partners!
WHERE: Anywhere in the city of New Ecrillion, or Navi.
WHEN: June 19 through July 10
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if you end up partying literally to death, please record it on the death page.

Hello, passengers! Hope you're all ready for an announcement, 'cause Navi's voice is getting beamed into your head right about ... now:

Attention, passengers.
We'll be docking soon at the city of New Ecrillion, on the planet Zegnolia, where we will remain for approximately three weeks, local time.
Please stand by.

From the announcement until landing, to help everyone adjust to the new environment, Navi will gift all passengers with a a faint hummed melody.

Upon docking and disembarking, passengers will find a bank counter just past the terminal, where your new windfall of Navigems can be exchanged for credits (the universal currency). Try not to spend it all in one place!

Now, go get your groove on! Just remember to take breaks to hydrate.

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Richard instantly tenses at that. Yes. She'd died. She was bloody and she'd had bad things happened to her at that.

"Yes. Is that the source of your liberation?"

He's not focusing on other questions. His face has gone calm and he starts talking calmly. Like a therapist.

"Xanadu?"

Oh, is Richard going to therapist at him? Well, he's certainly welcome to try, although Murmur isn't convinced such things would be particularly effective on something like him. Either way, he did pick up on that stiffening and reaction from Richard when he brought up Xanadu.

"A terrible place, that. A world inhabited by Infernals playing Heaven, while conspiring to torment whatever souls they managed to capture. Only for them to prove to be wholly unimaginative in their effort. You are a religious scholar, Richard, what role do we of the Holy Choirs play?"

Edited (wording) 2021-07-25 16:55 (UTC)

"In regards to a world overtaken by ...what? Darkness?" His first response is harsh, Nothing because it's meaningless. but this is the sort of thing that someone needs to be calmed about.

"...I need more information before I can make a decision." He pulls himself forward and gestures, "You're not giving me enough to work with. Did you battle these infernal hordes to save people? Or to save yourself?"

"Forget the hypotheticals for a moment. In your texts, according to your doctrines, what do we do?" Nothing has meaning without meaning prescribed to it, Richard, you should know that. But this wasn't a philosophical discussion at the moment, even if that was Murmur's favorite topic.

That second question earned a sound almost like a laugh, harmonic and musical, but it lacked any joy or mirth. Rueful, might be the closest descriptor, or perhaps... bitter.

"Myself? Why would I care to do such a thing? No, Richard, think," It's almost almost a hissed whisper. "I am a creation, a tool, what purpose do I serve?"

For a man threatened with having an actual purpose this is a tough question. They're on two sides of a coin, completely different from each other. He sighs, a long sad sigh, before he presses his lips together and drums his fingers on the table.

"You're asking about free will. How human beings navigate free will. At the heart of it that's what you're asking because most people, trust me most people unfortunately would love to be in your situation."

However...this appeals. An angel that is questioning their purpose. From a God that has left humans to their own devices, punishing them as needed.

He sighs again.

"What would you like to do. That's where it comes in. What would you like to do?" He gestures, "If you assume my ancestor." It's hard to keep the derision out of his voice, "Eve, at the apple she ate it because it was whispered to her she could do it if she wanted to. Let's start there. Tell me. If you could do anything outside of your programming what would you do?"

"They might think that. Believing that it's simple: Follow orders, do as you're instructed, absolved of personal accountability because you aren't a person. And, perhaps, for a time, it was like that. When it was us and the stars. But then there was life, then there was man and things suddenly became... complicated."

What Richard didn't know is they, too, had been left to their own devices for a long, long time. Pushed aside in favor of mankind, the very mortals that angels were set upon to oversee and to punish as necessary. In an environment like that strife was inevitable.

"I remember a time before free will. Before the Rebellion, before the Fall. If He needed a message sent, it would be sent. If He desired the mortals be punished it would be so. But then some of our brothers grew close to mortals, too close. They lay with them, they bore children, and those abominations had to be destroyed. I assisted in caging my own brothers, for eternity, that they should watch helpless and despair as we would drown those that they loved." He drummed his clawed rings thoughtfully on the counter, staring off into nothing as he thought. All of this spoken in that quiet, strangely emotionless tone of his.

"I think that was the first time I realized things were changing." He did smirk very faintly at the mention of Eve, just a brief flash of teeth. "Humans certainly do come up with creative stories, do they not?" Ah, the derision did ever amuse. Nuggets of truth buried with in ages upon ages of mythology. Delightful.

He was quiet for a time, thoughtful. "That is the question, isn't it? What do I do? I have been a loyal servant my entire existence. And now I find myself without a direction. Without the Word. And no matter how hard I listen... He has granted me only silence."

"To make a decision, to make a good decision." Richard folds his hands, "You need to know yourself. Which I suppose-" He gestures at the burger with a look of confusion, "You're doing. Just - to do so safely. You may need a partner or a friend to help you but that is what will help you make those decisions."

His voice gentles, "...My mother used to say that God was less silence and more about quiet voice inside of you. That your actions were his work. So...he wanted you to relax and eat a burger."

Pause, "He. She. They."

He does continue eating, because for all he's not accustomed to such actions he does know it's rude to waste food. An animal died for this, and while mortal lives may mean very little to most of his kin Murmur had always been fond of them. From the smallest crawling insects to great towering giants, all were fascinating to him. But humans, most of all, held a special place in his heart.

"How familiar are you with the Hierarchy of angels?" He asks idly between a mouthful of burger. "And do you have a suggestion? I am not accustomed to working in tandem with another. My duties require a certain degree of... discretion. Such that I have found it more beneficial to function alone." For a very, very long time.

An amused huff. "It's true, we don't have gender the way you think of it," If Strand thought to insult him by not using the common nomenclature he will be quite disappointed. "Your mother is on to something. For humans." But for angels... it's always been different for angels.

"I've studied it extensively. Where do you rank?" He folds his fingers on top of him and gestures, "I was speaking of Eve the supposed mother of all of my species but."

Work in tandem, "What you need is someone who you can talk your feelings through with. When you have questions. I can offer my services occasionally."

He smiles, "I would be pleased to. You can't have someone hold your hand through it, but we can discuss things occasionally. You just have to focus on yourself and your feelings. That's where it starts. Not to the point of Hedonism but if you have ideas we should discuss it."

"Order of Ophanim, and if you are as well versed as you claim you'll understand what that means." Of all the angelic Orders, while one of the higher ranking Ophanim possessed the lowest sense of free will. Being essentially literal chariots, machines to carry about both God and the Cherubim. "I was speaking of your phrase about the quiet voice." Which he's pretty sure Richard isn't claiming came from Eve? Given they couldn't have possibly met.

He faintly rose an eyebrow at that, looking amused. "Before you are qualified for that task, would you not have to be capable of admitting your own feelings unto yourself first?" Oh he's absolutely going to call you out on pretending you're not into Alex, Richard. Murmur may not understand emotions, but he's not blind to them.

A vague, dismissive wave. "Hedonism is hardly among my temptations." Unless you count enjoying the occasional junk food.

"I've never been-"

Well. Perhaps.

"I'm working towards it. Let's put it that way. How would an angel describe thinking for yourself? Isn't that very act a sinful act?"

"You would do well to remember I find lying exceptionally distasteful," He warned. Cooperation goes both ways. Murmur has been honest with him, he expects the same from Richard.

Again that thoughtful silence for a long, long time as he stared off in the distance and slightly up. Again, as though listening. "No." He said finally. "If it were, we would not have been made capable." It allowed them the ability to displease their Creator, certainly, but the act alone wasn't sinful. That was more a recent church teaching.

"Fine. I'm terrified and lying to myself." He grimaces, "But the truth is I-I've recently had an experience that made me rethink it."

He presses his lips together before gesturing loosely at Mur, "It's not a lie to admit I'm afraid."

And the rest.

"...Let's start slow. What do you want from this."

"Go on." He's listening. If Richard can help with free-will things, why can't Murmur offer his insight into more... esoteric matters?

"It's not, that is a valuable first step." The lying was his near insistence that he hasn't been lying, which he has. Richard does that often, unfortunately.

"A good question," Again after a moment's contemplation. "I don't know!" He offered, almost chipperly, before finishing off his burger. Why so chipper about it? Well, that would be because that's very unusual for him, not knowing something.

"My father abused me. Hurt me. I've seen myself becoming him here." He has to take another long swig of alcohol, finishing it off with a belch before ordering another, "I need to face it I suppose."

He sounds pleased, "Think about that. One minute, one second at a time if you have to. I need more beer."

"That's a rather alarming theme for your species," He mused more soberly. Although one might argue it wasn't much different for angels, at least they didn't produce offspring to continue the process with. Usually. To the latter he only let out a quietly thoughtful sound while he considered. Take the time you need, Richard.

Eventually he moved to gingerly tug off one glove, offering over a hand toward Richard. "Show me." He will better understand the pain if he experiences it himself.

You want to see it. Richard's features go carefully blank. The other beer is thankfully set in front of him and he swigs down quite a bit of it, stifling another painful belch before he grabs the angel's hand forcefully. It's a movement his father would often do.

Grab, tug, pull.

He is 5 years old holding his sister's hand with his mother and father at the grocery store. His father is talking to his mother who is walking beside him - she normally would walk behind him demurely but they are arguing and he moves too slow. Way too slow. He lingers with Cheryl, her chubby fist in his, looking at cookies.

"Richard."

"Richie." His 3 year old sister is sniffling, "Richie cookie."

"Richard."

There is a sudden sharp pain as his arm is tugged hard out. His sister wails and he lets out a sharp surprised cry. Then nothing.

Outwardly Richard focuses on the flood of memories and emotion and wonders if he can pick certain ones because - his mind is more open than it was but the images-

He is seven years old and crying. He doesn't mean to, his father has been rough before but this is wholly different. He's scaring him. Richard can feel his heart hammering in his chest, fluttering like a tiny bird, as his father raises his belt.

"Father Please."

"Didn't I teach you that lying was wrong? That making up stories was wrong?"

"Father Please!" It comes down on his arm first, then the beats come faster and faster and he sobs and sobs and sobs...

He inhales sharply.

"Do not look away."

Richard exhales. His father is a dark shadow in the night filled with shrinking lights, "...Do not look away. Only a coward would look away. I did not raise you to be a coward. You can overcome your weakness. Look at them"

The darkness surrounds him, dancing shadows, grasping fingers.

Don't leave me father.

Don't make me look.

Don't make me look...

There are other memories too, tugs and abuse and screaming and just neglect, a cold neglectful man and Richard has to pull his hand away.

"Enough."

HE whimpers, "Enough please."

Yes. Came the almost hissed, whispered response. With that hissed word in echoing, melodic voices came the impressions of more than just the word. The desire to understand, that unending hunger to know. Truth is everything, and a truth is most potent direct from the source.

Show him the weight of your soul, Richard Strand.

Going over painful trauma and memories was never an easy task, not for the one bearing them and not for Murmur learning them for the first time. While for Richard they may be as disjointed, broken memories, once the thread was exposed Murmur could trace it and live the moment as if he himself were there. Experiencing everything alongside little Richie. The pain, the fear, the hurt and betrayal. All as raw as the day they happened, for to him with the way his power worked it might as well be that very moment in time.

So he absorbed it, sitting there in the thick of it alongside Richard. At least, this time, he didn't have to endure it alone. When Richard finally broke the spell Murmur simply slipped his hand away, quietly resuming tugging his glove back on while he digested all that he had learned.

"I think," He began after a time, softly. "I am finally beginning to understand you, Richard. Thank you, for sharing that with me." He's going to sit and digest it for a while.

Richard wipes his eyes. It's unintentional as he puts them back on before looking away, "...I don't- I don't bring it up."

He presses his lips together, "I know I can count on your silence and ...discretion and support."

"Did I explain and reveal a few things."

"Hardly a topic for casual conversation," Murmur offered. No one really talks about their traumas, even if he does tend to know a whole lot more about them than he reasonably should. More weird, mysterious angel things.

"Of course. Your secrets are safe with me." Murmur doesn't go blabbing lightly, and it's not his place to reveal to others the inner workings of an individual.

"Some. Your current struggle in expressing yourself now, at the very least, makes significantly more sense. It isn't my place to tell you how to behave, but I do think you wouldn't be remiss in reaching out more to Alex."

"Alex ... knows some of it. Just not the extent that you now do."

He frowns, "...Did it help? To understand? Each one of those choices were choices my parents made. Being a human is hard."

"Oh, I hardly expect you to divulge unto her your darkest secrets." There are gentler middle grounds to be had, Richard. Think now.

"Every being with a mind to understand hardship suffers in their existence, Richard. That is not an experience unique to your species. Your parents failed you in their duty to you, of that there can be no question. Now the question is, what will you do with this understanding?"

This is a stolen season. A half life.

"What all beings do." He draws himself up and tries for dignity, tries for decorum, tries for humanity, "...Try and maintain myself."

He sighed, "...All any of us can do my friend. Can you get back to the ship all right?"

Stolen opportunities are still opportunities not to be squandered. "This situation grants us a rare opportunity for reflection." He commented idly, as if following the train of thought unspoken.

That earns something of a faint smirk, touched with a faint hint of disappointment. "You are more than a creature of instinct and mere survival, human. You would do well to remember the gifts with which you are blessed." Reason, empathy, thought. Those qualities have driven them through centuries of progress, now is not the time to forget them.

A dismissive gesture. "I am the last you need to worry about. Do try not to drink too much, I hear it's bad for your health." And with that, and the understanding that this was a dismissal Murmur is gone. Nothing more than a faint breeze and his leftover empty plate to indicate he'd been there at all.

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