eyemind | event } this ain't a scene, it's a deus ex machina (act one)

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event } this ain't a scene, it's a deus ex machina (act one)

WHO: All y’all.
WHAT: Act One of This Ain’t A Scene It’s a Deus Ex Machina
WHERE: On Navi; Rizyeria and New Estos on the planet Merox.
WHEN: This month of April.
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if you get yourself smote, please report it on the death page.

scene one.

Navi has an announcement for everyone, and as per usual, it’s being broadcast right into your brain:

Attention, passengers.
I apologize that it has taken so long, but I believe I’ve found a solution to the problem where some of you have been transposed into a body that is not yours.
We are approaching an anomaly in the current galaxy known as the Blenga Zone. This area is known to be a hotspot of strange energy - some even describe the energy as “mystical” in nature. I believe that plotting a course directly through it may provide the catalyst to reverse your consciousnesses back into your original bodies.
I do admit this is not an area in which I have any expertise, so if any of you do have experience with this sort of thing, I am willing to listen to your advice.
For the rest of you, you’ll find sturdy restraints emerging from the walls. Please be ready to strap yourselves in - I imagine this part of our voyage will be less than smooth.
Please stand by …

As promised, wherever you are on Navi, a padded harness emerges from the wall nearby, ready for you to utilize when the turbulence begins. And what turbulence it is! The shaking begins gradually, but quickly increases in intensity until the movement becomes severe, and Navi shouts for everyone to strap in and brace for impact. Warnings blare over the PA, lights flicker out and are replaced with the dim red glow of emergency lights, and it seems as if Navi will be shaken apart at the seams. The ship pitches in varying directions, over and over again, until the crash of final impact can be felt, and Navi flips over a few times before skidding to a stop. On the bright side, Navi landed right side up.

On the even brighter side … at least you’re back in your body now?

scene two.

Eventually, through your combined powers of investigation, it becomes apparent that Navi is offline. The glyphlinks won’t connect, everything on the ship is in low-power mode, and even the drones are nowhere to be found. It’s not hard to guess that Navi has sustained some injuries after that extremely rough landing. Luckily, the loading dock is still functional, so you can still leave the ship to check out the planet!

Checking out the planet means discovery that Navi’s crash ended not far from a walled city, and what looks like a factory town on the outside of that wall. Any passengers curious enough to investigate will find themselves soon met - with wariness and suspicion - by local inhabitants, and escorted into the heart of the slums to meet with their leader, who resides with other locals in a large, abandoned warehouse. Roughly made tents are scattered throughout the warehouse floor, giving it the appearance of a refugee camp more than permanent housing, and a small crowd of children is seated around a larger hooded and cloaked figure seated on a stack of wooden crates. He stops imparting whatever wisdom the children had been attending with rapt attention and glances up at the newcomers.

“I see we have some visitors,” he says, in a neutral, slightly metallic voice. “Welcome to Rizyria. We don’t have much, but if you come in peace, we’re quite happy to share what we have.” He stands and pushes back the hood from his cloak to show his unobscured face, which is covered in numerous fluttering miniature wings, which are in turn covered with even more eyes. “My name is Hanna’morith. What brings you to us today?”

scene three.
Once the exposition cutscene has been cleared, Hanna’morith offers to assist with healing Navi, and he promises to recruit some of the other Rizyrians for the effort as well. There’s just one thing he’ll ask in return - your assistance in locating the Imrathic Shattershards, which are scattered to various public buildings and private collections inside the walled city of New Estos. All you will need to do is locate one of the shards, liberate it from its current abode, and return it to Hanna’morith for eventual reconstitution.

A handful of Rizyrians appear at Hanna’morith’s side to start planning the various infiltrations, and Hanna’morith asks to be taken to see the injured Navi. Feel free to mingle while you wait, and once your plans are finalized, you can head out whenever you’d like - though sooner is better, obviously. If not undertaking this high-risk scavenger hunt, you can head back to Navi, or stay in town to take in the entirely terrible sights.

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This isn't Jon's fight either, though of course he's sympathetic to the plight of the oppressed people of this planet. He still has a soul, after all.

Treasure hunting isn't his forte, Jon learned that well enough during his quest for information on how to stop the Unknowing, so he hasn't volunteered his services for searching out one of the sword shards. He does, however, have a special skill when it comes to Compelling people to tell him what he wants to know. He thinks that might make for a better user of his time on this planet - assisting in the shard search by finding where the pieces are stashed. Hanna'morith had only been able to pinpoint the exact location of some of the pieces. He can report back and let the others take point on retrieval.

He's headed toward the gate into New Estos when he catches sight of Murmur and decides to postpone his mission for now in favor of checking in on his feathered more-than-friend. The angel had exited rather abruptly, and Jon can guess that's not a good sign.

"Are you all right?"

"I dislike this planet."

By now Jon has probably figured out that Murmur challenges the British in his ability to understate the severity of things. The fact he'd absconded so suddenly and was now aggressively perching and scowling at pretty much everything certainly suggested it was a little more than "dislike." Detest might be closer, but even that wasn't a strong enough word.

It was taking a lot of self control to not try to obliterate Hanna'morith outright simply for existing, so best he let the others handle diplomacy.

Internal roiling temporarily distracted he focused his attention on Jon, only just now seeming to realize he was clearly heading into the thrice-damned city. "What are you up to?"

For someone who typically wasn't demonstrative about his feelings to make the show of displeasure Murmur has made it quite obvious even to Jon that something was especially wrong about this place. With a nod of acknowledgement, Jon slides his hands into his trouser pockets and casts a glance toward the walled city.

"Mm ... yes, I rather got the impression that nobody liked this place. Not even the people who live here." From what they'd been told, the oligarchy of New Estos made the Tories seem downright benevolent in comparison. Jon offers Murmur the tiniest of wry smiles as he turns back to answer his question.

"I, erm - I thought I might be able to help expedite the process of finding these hidden artifacts. Care to join me?"

"With this degree of oppression they cannot be blamed for the sentiment."

He shouldn't get involved. It's not his place to influence the course of mortal affairs. Still, having a look around couldn't hurt right? These weren't actual angels, they probably couldn't tell Murmur from a human, if they could see him at all given Jack's sigil. That, and Jon did ask with a nice little smile... how can he say no?

He hopped from his perch, light as a feather landing on the ground beside him with no show of wings but a rather impressive display of dexterity all the same. Smoothing out his clothing to ensure he looked as human as possible he returned Jon's wry smile alongside a nod. "I suppose a look couldn't hurt." He'd hate to send Jon in there alone.

Jon feels a bit more confident with Murmur's agreement to accompany him. Now that the mental connection between them is gone, it's something of a comfort to have the angel by his side. Jon actually misses the glyphlink - without it, the inside of his head feels empty, too quiet.

"Great," he says, and his smile warms and widens. "Shall we?" He gestures in the direction of the gate and sets off, trusting Murmur will be right beside him as he walks.

It was a good thing Jon bumped into him when he did. There was no telling what danger could await him in there, and without Navi's glyphlink who would know to respond? Granted Murmur missed their link for more reasons than just the convenience of looking after his flock. He wasn't secretive about his affection for Jon and found his own mind a more lonely place without him.

"Do you think they will keep their word?" He muses softly as he falls into step with the Archivist. Not being able to read the being's soul made understanding his intent all the more difficult. Maybe that's why the machines repulsed him so, no souls to speak of.

Jon walks silently for a few moments, considering the angel’s question. Maybe he’s not the best person to gauge the character of other people - how long had it taken him to become suspicious that Elias was a murderer? And he knows the sorts of petty things humans can become cruel about, from firsthand experience. He can’t imagine what sort of person he would be if he were subjected to the levels of poverty and oppression he sees on this planet.

“I don’t know,” he says, finally, and gives Murmur an apologetic look. “But I’d like to believe they will.”

Murmur has that look, the one where he doesn't make eye contact and has his head tilted just so like he's listening for something. He doesn't trust this place, moreover he's not certain he trusts the people. Still listening to their pleas and weighing the honesty of their hearts. The souls he can hear, their pain and earnestness impossible to ignore. The machines complicated things.

"Let us hope that their integrity remains intact." It clearly didn't with the so called elites who had claimed the city for themselves. How vile they were to treat their own like this.

Jon nods and hums quietly in agreement with Murmur’s sentiment. What else can they do at this point? There’s no accurate way for him to predict the future - foresight isn’t one of his gifts from the Eye.

He falls silent again for another long moment while they walk, mulling over their situation and his hastily constructed plan to enter the gate. His thoughts circle around to the more recent events, Navi’s crash landing and the weird state in which some of the passengers found themselves. Jon lightly clears his throat and glances over at Murmur.

“How - erm, how are you doing, now that we’re all … back to normal?”

It isn't as useful as Jon might think. The future is never fully carved in stone. Large events may be predicted, or even small on an individual level, but merely the act of perceiving the potential could change things irrevocably. It wouldn't do any good here, there were so many pieces at play it would take more time to try to divine it out than it would take for the events to simply fall in place on their own. Had he millennia to prepare that would be different.

Murmur hummed a thoughtful sound at Jon's question, eyes continuing to scan the sky suspiciously as they walked. "I must admit that novel as it was to spend a short time mortal, I would prefer against revisiting that experience. I much prefer my own vessel..." His eyes swept over Jon briefly and he smiled just a hint bashfully. "I much prefer you in yours as well." That might be the world's most awkward attempt at a flirt in all of existence. Ignore him.

"That said, I am feeling much improved." He sure did complain a whole lot while he was Strand. Everything about being Strand was terrible.

Jon absolutely will not ignore Murmur, or the comment about liking his vessel, though he finds it a bit confusing. It actually takes him a moment to puzzle out the meaning of the compliment.

“Oh … erm, thank you? I’m rather partial to it as well.” Obviously, since it’s the only body he’s ever inhabited, until now. He chuckles lightly. “Yours is quite nice too. Very … sturdy.”

That’s a thing people say to give a compliment, right? If Murmur is awkward about flirting, he’s in good company, because Jon is pretty awkward about flirting back. He lightly clears his throat, a little embarrassed at his choice of words after the fact.

“Alex did a good job of keeping mine from being damaged. I really must thank her for that the next time I see her.”

He’d inhabited hers with care as well, of course he did. Not only is Alex a friend, but it’s also a matter of simple courtesy. You’d take good care of a borrowed jacket, why not a borrowed body?

“But, erm … I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Jon says, glancing over to aim a fond smile in Murmur’s direction. “I know you weren’t exactly comfortable with Strand’s … vessel.”

Murmur does have a habit of using language a bit strangely. It makes sense to him as bodies are such temporary homes. It also makes sense the wording would be confusing to Jon.

Murmur smiles, it's one of those that's a brief flash of teeth and doesn't last long, but it does seem less predatory and more genuine in Jon's direction. "That does have have its merits. Granted that is more a result of my essence contained within... never mind. We should stay alert." He can explain how inhabiting a vessel as a non-corporeal being works later. If Jon cares for an explanation.

"I am glad to hear that. I must admit I was perhaps not as cautious with Richard's as I could have been." He definitely wasn't, though most of that was really not intentional. Most of it was frustration and carelessness, and some part not entirely understanding the limitations of a normal human body. He made a face at the mention. "It was unwieldly. Had my power and essence not been trapped within this one perhaps the experience would have been less unpleasant." He really doesn't like being mortal.

Many mortals would say they don’t enjoy the experience too, so Murmur isn’t alone in that sentiment. Jon finds the way the angel talks about the experience both curious and endearing, and a small smile curves his mouth as he steals another glance of Murmur from the side.

But Murmur probably won’t be surprised when Jon questions him on the whole vessel-inhabitation thing anyway. The Archivist must know!

“How does that work, by the way? The, erm - the essence-containing thing. I assumed you look like this to - to blend in, as it were, among humans. Like a disguise?”

At least he isn't alone in his dislike of the experience. It was novel for a short while, then quickly became inconvenient. Murmur was too busy listening to catch that smile, but he did feel Jon's eyes on him. The question does not come as a surprise.

"That is one reason, yes. It is easier to work and move among your kind appearing as one of your own. In the past when we have shown ourselves to mortals we discovered that few can look upon our true forms unscathed. This eliminates the risk of harm." Yes, he knows Jon's only going to be more curious, so he shoots the man a 'don't you try' look before continuing.

"Building a vessel from scratch comes at a significant cost of energy, and we never quite get the details right. Instead it is simpler to take one that already exists. I prefer them empty, though it is not impossible to borrow one in use with permission. Though with an angel of my Sphere the resultant end is not favorable for the host."

It's a very gentle way of saying he burns out the mind.

Murmur wouldn’t need to be the Angel of Sight to foresee Jon having more questions - just knowing him for the span of a few hours would be enough to pick up on that particular inclination. Jon dutifully closes his mouth without uttering a sound, sheepish at being Seen, and listens quietly until Murmur finishes his explanation. Then he asks.

“So when you say empty … you mean dead?” Which means the body Murmur inhabits now belonged to someone who died. Jon immediately has a dozen more questions about the mechanics of it all, but there’s something else he needs to ask first.

“Hang on … are you saying … angels can possess people? The same way demons supposedly possess people, like in all those horror films?”

Fortunately Murmur didn't mind the questions, it was only the possibility of Jon blinding himself because he let his curiosity overwhelm his sense that concerned him. As much as he would love it if Jon were one of the few capable who could perceive his kind without harm he wasn't willing to risk it for his own ego.

"Yes, I believe that is the classification you use." Death is an intangible concept for him, as souls do not die and therefore the permanence isn't what it is to him as it is to mortals. Simply a different stage of existence. Death for an angel generally involves ceasing to exist entirely. He's still not sure how it is that he still exists.

"Of course, where do you think they get it from? The very first demons were fallen angels, after all. Both require permission, demons simply... bend what counts as permission more than your average angel." Or coerce or manipulate their way into it, though Murmur can't honestly say angels don't do the same. They just use religious fervor instead of despair for their cause. In the end they are two sides of the same coin.

Jon had never considered the mechanics of possession overly much, being neither religious nor a horror film aficionado. Murmur’s explanation of it certainly gives Jon a good chunk of new information to mentally gnaw on - he exhales a quiet huh and goes silent for a long moment, falling deep into his thoughts. He re-emerges with another question, of course. Softly, he inquires of the angel:

“Did you know the, erm - the vessel’s previous occupant? Before you acquired it, I mean.”

To be fair to Jon, even the religious often fail to truly consider the nature of the beings they call to for help. Even with so many damning stories at their fingertips they instead choose to exalt them as heroic tales of good vanquishing evil. Even in ages long past things had never been quite so black and white.

"It was quite empty by the time I came upon it. Only fragments of memories remained trapped within what echoes still lingered. Nothing of substance, and long since discarded." Yes, discarded, as Murmur had no use for the attachments of the previous owner. Wherever the individual's soul was now was not his concern, nor did he give thought to whatever family might be left behind wondering what happened to a loved one. Such ties were strange to angels, and easily overlooked.

“Oh … I see,” Jon says, tone hushed. There is a kind of existential sadness, he thinks, to the need for wearing a discarded body, but he decides to keep that particular thought to himself. The gate is just ahead, and he’ll need to focus. It’s been a while since he’s had a statement, what with being stuck in Alex’s body for however long that episode had lasted, and while starvation effects are a ways off yet, he’s not in tip-top form, either. Jon halts his steps to take a moment for digging up a reserve of courage. A deep breath in, a slow exhale, and he turns to Murmur with a soft smile.

“You wear it well.” The vessel, he means. Then, with a nod toward the gate, he asks: “Shall we?”

He's a little surprised Jon didn't ask how the previous occupant died, but that is perhaps not the most important question on the table. Murmur had one of his own, once, but that vessel had been destroyed after he had, so now he was stuck using scraps. In time this one would fully become his own it was just still a work in progress. He was still pleased enough to hear Jon's compliment and flashed him a brief smile before turning his attention to the gate ahead, expression returning to that cold neutrality that was his default.

"Are you certain about this?" It struck him that this likely wasn't a good idea, he only hoped that the two of them could fly low enough under the radar to not draw any unwanted attention to themselves. With that thought in mind he pulled his power in close, burying it tightly lest something be capable of sensing him through Jack's sigil. At worst he should appear rather weak, certainly nothing to be concerned about. Jon on the other hand... he doesn't know if he can do the same.

Jon laughs dryly under his breath. "Not really," he admits, offering Murmur a thin smile. "But I ... I think it's what I need to do."

He shrugs lightly and starts moving again toward the gate.

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event } this ain't a scene, it's a deus ex machina (act one)

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finally adds this endtag after forever 9_6